Secession

1

March 18, 2109

“Dan, wake up! We have to move now!”

Vice Admiral Waikford blinked open his eyes and found himself looking up at the face of his XO, then a massive jab of pain manifested itself in his forehead. He reached up towards the spot but Carolyn caught his hand before it could reach his head.

“You have a concussion, at least,” she said as another explosion rocked the station. “I’ve got the bleeding stopped, but we have to move.”

With an effort she pulled him up to his feet and dipped her head underneath one of his shoulders.

“Report,” Waikford ordered meekly, still unsure of his surroundings.

“The fleet’s broken and what’s left of the enemy is pounding the station. We have to evacuate,” she said, walking him down an empty hall with bits of ceiling panel lying about. When they turned the corner they ran into a closed pressure door.

“Damn it,” Captain Kerber swore, having to think fast. With a none too subtle tug she redirected the American fleet commander down a side hallway, half dragging him onward.

“Clark?” Waikford inquired, grimacing against the obvious head wound obscured beneath a hastily applied bandage circling his head like a bloody halo.

“Dead,” Carolyn said as they were both thrown off their feet and into the wall by a sudden lurch.

With a sinking feeling in her gut, the Captain in charge of the US Navy defense station knew the power to the rotational spur had just been cut, meaning the large rotating disc they were in was going to slow down and eventually leave them in zero g.

“Hurry,” she insisted, dragging Waikford on.

“Who’s taken command?”

“Dan, it’s over. The fleet’s gone. There’s nothing left to command.”

“How?” he asked, aghast.

“Later,” she said, finally finding the hallway she wanted. “I’ve ordered the station evacuated. We’re one of the last ones left and we need to get off before the British blow our asses to pieces.”

Coming to a closed transparent door on their right, Carolyn pressed the activation button and the access way to the escape pods ground open. At the far end of the narrow hall was an identical door, one that showed a mix of broken station pieces and stars on the opposite side. The hull breach was the reason the other hallway had been locked down, preventing their access.

Most of the 36 escape pods were already gone, but three remained and Carolyn pulled the Admiral into the nearest one, then climbed in after him. Reaching up, she sealed the hatch behind them in the cramped circular pod while Dan pulled himself against the padded wall and sat down, clumsily finding the seat belt and connecting it to the appropriate receptacle. There were six such seats arrayed around the perimeter of the pod, with a small table/control console in the center.

Carolyn stood on top of the table, making sure that the inner hatch located in the ceiling was truly secure, then she hopped down and took a seat, powering up the pod’s internal life support systems with a few key presses. Strapping herself in, she hit the release and waited.

On the outside ring of the 8th disc in the ‘coin stack’ military defense station an armored panel blew off explosive bolts and cleared a short access tube from which the teardrop-shaped escape pod rolled out, propelled by the centrifugal force of the still spinning disc. Its straight-line trajectory moved it slowly away from the besieged station and at approximately a right angle from the debris field that contained the 106 warship hulks from the recent naval engagement.

Twelve British ships had survived, including one of their carriers, which had refueled its fighters twice already, sending them back in with more missiles to pick away at the station while the command ship sat safely at a distance. Up closer, the other eleven warships pounded away at the American base with cannons, having long since expended all of their missiles. Chunk after chunk of the rotating discs broke off from the station, but the sheer size of the construct and the thick armor plating covering it were making it truly difficult to kill…but without any remaining opposition from the American fleet its death was all but inevitable.

Bringing up a small video relay on the pod’s tabletop, Carolyn swiveled the exterior camera around to give them a view of what was happening to the slowly shrinking station as a fighter zipped by, causing the Captain’s heart to skip a beat, but it didn’t fire at the pod, too concerned with other targets.

 As the entirety of the station finally filled the viewscreen, Carolyn’s breath caught in her throat. She’d known the lower weapons batteries had been taken offline early on, but she hadn’t realized that most of those levels had been completely sheared off from the station. She glanced around to see if she could locate them, but they weren’t in camera range and she knew it would be stupid to activate the pod’s active radar…their staying alive required them to stay hidden, as much as possible, as their limited momentum swung them free of the station’s death throws.

Some return fire from the battle station was still evident. Apparently her evacuation order hadn’t been heeded by everyone and some of the top mounted turrets were still slugging it out with a pair of cruisers, one of which had a satisfying hull breach along the port flank, but other than that the station was completely nonresponsive. The mass of weaponry that had been activated when the battle began had been completely ravaged during the course of the fighting, and it looked like this time the British weren’t interested in capturing the American facility. They appeared intent to utterly destroy it.

Carolyn was fortunate that they hadn’t flown off the station and into one of the attacking ships or debris in the area, given that their launch vector had been entirely random. From their pod’s passive sensors they could track the transponders on all the ships and fighters, and it appeared they were going to clear the battlefield without incident. There was a distress signal button underneath a panel on the tabletop that would alert their fleet to their position, but she held off activating it, hoping to get farther away from the British before doing so.

She wasn’t completely sure whether or not they could hope for retrieval, given what had just happened to their fleet, but she also didn’t like the idea of the angry British making target practice of their pod, so she held off activating it.

“Anyone else?” the Admiral asked.

Carolyn shook her head, with her loose hair flying every which way in the zero g. “There’s no way of knowing.”

“Use the comm panel,” he suggested, pointing to a section of the tabletop.

“I didn’t want to give away our position.”

“We won’t last very long if someone doesn’t know to come get us,” he argued, his voice weak.

“I don’t think we have any ships in the area,” she said, knowing well that meant a death sentence. “Do you want me to signal the British and ask if they will accept our surrender?”

“No…there’s…another option,” he said, his breath seeming to escape his lungs with every word. “Code prompt...zero…zero…ten.”

Carolyn activated the pod’s comm gear and input the code, recognizing it as a Star Force prompt. “You think they’ll respond?”

“They always…watch…and…pick up…survivors.”

Carolyn dug under the table and pulled open a small panel, revealing an assortment of survival supplies. Her hand brushed across a small metallic case of foodstuffs but she pushed it aside, looking for the med kit. A moment later she found it attached by velcro to the back wall in the small cubicle and pulled it free and out onto her lap, where she held it down with one hand while flipping the lid open with the other. All the items were secured inside so they wouldn’t float off, including a series of medication vials.

The Captain pulled out one in particular and gently solicited one of the tiny anti-trauma pills, then snapped the lid back on and returned it to its appropriate slot in the kit.

“Take this,” she said, passing him the stabilization pill. It was designed to reduce bodily functions enough to prolong the treatability window for injuries, in this case being the Admiral’s head wound. Hopefully it would slow any internal swelling and give his body time to heal…or reach a medic, which seemed overly optimistic right now.

“Water,” he said after grabbing the tiny blue disc from her outstretched hand.

“Right,” she said, silently cursing herself for forgetting. She dug back down into the supply cubicle and found several clear bottles, then passed one over to him. With an effort, he got the pill down then continued to sip on the straw periodically, saying nothing and looking like he was having a hard time remaining conscious.

“What happened?” he asked after a few silent minutes.

“To the fleet or you?”

“Both.”

“The bridge took a hit…I’m not sure how. Maybe an internal ricochet from a hull breach. All I know is the side wall blew out and you took a chunk to the head and passed out. There was a slow atmospheric leak, but we got it patched up long enough to see our fleet get massacred.”

The Admiral’s eyes focused on Carolyn, demanding more of an answer.

“When the enemy fighters swarmed the fleet, Admiral Clark moved out to engage the carriers,” she said regretfully.

“Idiot!” Waikford cursed. “That’s just what they wanted.”

“Well they got it,” she confirmed, agreeing with his sentiment. The Captain had had a very intense discussion over the subject with Clark when he decided to leave the defensive sphere around her station and taking her weaponry out of the fight. “We had an 8 ship edge, along with more tonnage, but it wasn’t enough. They picked the fleet apart then moved on the station. They lost most of their fleet in the process, I made sure we made them pay for it, but their surviving ships are tearing apart the station. On the up side, I think they’re too busy to notice our pods.”

“You said we were the last off?”

“More or less. It took a lot of time to get your bleeding stopped, and I wasn’t going to move you leaking through the corridors. You would have bled out by now.”

“Feels like…I already have,” Waikford admitted. “Were the other escape pods…launched?”

“Yes.”

“We need to find them and…link up to maximize…our chances.”

“We’re not picking up any transponders.”

“They’re probably running dark…until…they get further away. We have to act…before that.”

“Alright,” Carolyn said, reconfiguring the comm to send out two periodic signals…the one to Star Force that cycled every 10 minutes, and the low power signal specifically designated for pod to pod location. It would cycle every 30 seconds, offering a slight ping that would show up on other pods’ passive sensors.

“Nothing,” she reported after five minutes of waiting.

“Add your designator…and if that doesn’t work…add mine.”

The Captain bit on her lip awkwardly. Adding a designator would mean she’d be broadcasting that this pod contained a high ranking officer rather than just the odd crewman. If the British were monitoring, it’d paint a big bull’s eye on their pod for the enemy fighters to target.

Then again, if they just waited and did nothing the fighters could come around and kill them anyway. Belatedly she agreed with the Admiral’s logic, figuring they might as well control what part of their destiny they could, rather than sit around and hope for a miracle.

She input her designator code into the system and hit the broadcast button, wondering how wise this was.

Within a minute they received a response ping.

“Got one,” she said excitedly, seeing that it wasn’t far off.

“Get us there…slowly.”

With a flurry of commands, Carolyn brought up the navigational system onto the tabletop touchscreen. Their fuel was limited, but the thrusters had enough maneuvering capability to keep them from being completely ballistic, and according to her computations they did have enough to rendezvous with the other pod.

Knowing that haste would waste fuel, Carolyn nulled out the difference vector between the two pods then added a little extra thrust to start them drifting towards each other, but no more. It would take hours for them to rendezvous, but they wouldn’t have to waste fuel with a massive deceleration upon arrival, and the more they saved the better at this point.

When the opposite pod pinged again two others responded as well, prompting Carolyn to alter their signal, indicating that the others should rendezvous with them. Having already made things easy for the first pod, she began running the calculations for the others and discovering that they were going to have to burn a considerable amount of fuel to catch up with them, given their radial directions. They were both ‘close’ as far as being on the same side of the station, but their inertia was carrying them separate ways, with the gaps increasing every second.

The Captain knew the key was trends and predictability. If she kept making adjustments for the sake of the others, and they did the same, they’d end up wasting more fuel by having to guess where the command pod was going to be. By keeping ballistic she would give them a predictable target to rendezvous with…though she wished she could tell them that over the comms. That was a risk she wasn’t prepared to take though, for the quieter they were the less chance of attracting attention. With so much debris floating around a silent pod would look the same on radar, giving them a good chance of escape once they got considerably farther away from the quickly disintegrating station.

“I’ve got three pods now,” she said, then realized the Admiral had slipped back into unconsciousness. She unlatched her restraints and moved to the seat next to him to check his vitals, letting out a sigh of relief when she confirmed he was still breathing.

“Hang on, Dan,” she whispered, turning her attention back to the other pods.

Two hours later the first rendezvous occurred, and with some precision flying Carolyn was able to mate the top of their teardrop pod with the bottom of the other, thereby establishing a hard connection that came up through a second, hidden hatch underneath the control console of the other pod. When the connection was made, she floated up and through the short extendable connection and poked her head out underneath the raised console, then climbed up into their cabin like a hamster coming up and out a small tube.

“Captain, are we ever glad to see you,” one of the four crewmen in the pod said with a look of genuine relief on his face.

Carolyn glanced around, taking stock of the survivors, with her eyes landing on the medic’s uniform to her left.

“You, come with me,” she said, pointing to the man before crawling back down the cramped tunnel.

“Do you have wounded?” he asked, sliding down feet first.

“Dear god!” he exclaimed once he saw the other occupant.

“What is it?” a voice asked.

“It’s Admiral Waikford,” the medic answered back. “He’s got some type of a head wound,” the medic said, his voice trailing off as he floated down next to the still unconscious man.

“Piece of debris hit him,” Carolyn said, floating mid cabin with a hand on the hatchway. “He’s lost a lot of blood.”

“Have you given him anything?”

“Blue pill.”

“Good…that probably helped. Get me two whites and something to grind them down with. I need them in powder form.”

Pushing off the ‘ceiling’ Carolyn dropped down to the console and began digging around inside. She found the vile with the white pills, marked as painkillers, and pulled out a pair of the dry tablets, which she placed inside an empty ration cartridge split up into sections like an egg carton. Lastly she removed her wedding ring and handed it all to the medic.

“Water bottle,” he said next, carefully grinding up the pills using her ring as the breaker as he cupped the floating dust expertly back into the cartridge slot. “Open it then hand it to me very, very slowly.”

Doing as bidden, Carolyn unscrewed the cap then kept enough forward momentum to keep the water from flowing forward. The movement acted like artificial gravity, keeping it in place at the bottom of the flexible bottle until it got into the medic’s hand…who whipped it around in circular motion, ever so slowly decreasing speed until it was just barely moving.

With a flick of his other hand he brought his thumb to bear over the top of the cartridge that he had been holding closed and flicked out a bit of crushed pill dust, whereupon he flew the open bottle around in mid air, collecting the dust all the while keeping a little momentum in the liquid to hold it in place. He continued with the exercise until he had all the dust relocated then released the cartridge.

“Cap,” he called, getting it handed to him a moment later. He caught the lid on the bottle and screwed it tight, then began shaking the liquid to mix in the medication.

“Well done,” Carolyn congratulated him.

“Now for the hard part,” the medic said, jostling the Admiral. He had to shake him many times before the man’s eyelids snapped open.

“Good,” the medic said under his breath. “Admiral, can you hear me?”

“Carolyn?”

“I’m here,” she said, sliding over to his right side, opposite the medic. “We’ve docked with another pod, one with a medic.”

“Good…very good,” he said, coughing slightly, which he immediately regretted as the bodily tremors did a number on his head.

“I need you to sip this, sir. It will help with the pain,” the medic said, handing him the bottle with straw.

“How many?” he asked his XO.

“Four,” she answered. “With five more pods enroute. We located some others while you were out.”

“The British?”

“Leaving us alone, for now. I think they’re searching their own wreckage for survivors.”

“No reinforcements, I take it?”

“No, sir. Looks like we’re going to be on our own for a while,” she said, speaking more formally now that crew were present.

“We’re not dead yet,” he reminded them. “So long as we stay alive there’s still a chance of rescue.”

8 hours later that rescue would come in the form of a Star Force SR and escorts, sent to respond to the distress call as well as search the battle debris for any survivors. By that time all 7 pods had grouped together and interconnected, with the hammerhead of the SR swallowing them up inside its forward bay and attaching them to the internal airlock as work skiffs nudged the entire assembly into place, after which the Americans were free to exit their pods and move inside the pressurized portion of the Star Force ship.

The Admiral came out last, nearly catatonic, with Carolyn staying at his side the entire way to the med bay, grateful for gravity under her feet once again…which also made her overly full bladder all the more insistent. After seeing the Admiral into the hands of a proper medical staff, she excused herself and went with the rest of the rescued crew to get cleaned up and a hot meal to eat. By the time she got back to the med bay, well over an hour later, Dan was already awake and alert.

“Thank you, Carolyn,” he said gratefully as she stepped to the side of his remarkably spartan bed, which was little more than a cushioned pad with no blankets or sheets, only a built in pillow bump. On his head was a small wireless monitoring device, with his vitals being displayed on a plate-sized screen positioned over his ‘bed.’

“What was I going to do? Gramps would never have let me hear the end of it if I’d left you behind.”

“Family connection aside, I owe you.”

“Damn straight you do. Someone needs to teach you how to duck,” she said in jest, knowing that there was no way he or anyone else could have avoided that exploding wall. She’d been lucky not to be hit herself.

“Figure he’s ok?”

“I hope so,” she said, the spark gone from her voice. She looked her cousin in the eye and shook her head. “He’s not going to be happy when he hears about this.”

“He hasn’t been happy since the war started,” Dan pointed out.

“It’s worse when it’s personal,” Carolyn said, dropping her eyes. “He’ll be kicking himself for no reason, you know that.”

“Have they let you send a message?”

“Yes, they’re being very accommodating…as usual.”

“What are they going to do with us?”

Carolyn glanced at the handful of medics walking about, none within ear shot of her return whisper.

“They’ll be sending us back to Earth, eventually,” she said, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, “but first we’re being transferred to a Star Force facility in Lunar orbit.”

“That’s rather out of the way,” he said, catching her tone.

Carolyn nodded. “I have a feeling they’re going to lay down a blockade on the Moon.”

Dan frowned, less from the persistent headache than from the strategy of the situation. Ever since Mars, the American military hadn’t been sure what to expect from Star Force at Earth, though a blockade of the Moon made perfect sense. Deescalate the ground war by denying supplies, much as they had at Mars, only this time they would have the bulk of all the major players’ navies to contend with.

He certainly hoped Washington wouldn’t be so reckless as to try and confront Star Force directly, though a part of him hoped that the British and Japanese would be so bold and get their asses handed to them. At the same time though, that wasn’t entirely a pleasant thought, given that his grandfather was currently living on Luna…and serving as Governor of a British colony, no less.

2

March 20, 2109

Duke Nevil Windsor slammed his fist onto his desktop, bouncing the items thereupon into the air in the low Lunar gravity. “I swear, this has gone too far!”

He left the message from his granddaughter on his screen and hauled his 92 year old body out of his chair and began to pace to and fro across his office…an old habit he’d developed in times of deep reflection, and right now he definitely needed to think.

To date his colony on Luna hadn’t been directly affected by the war, it was one of several city-states located in the UK’s various territorial zones, all scattered across the surface of the moon. His was the largest and sandwiched between Star Force, Australian, Brazilian, and Spanish territories, leaving the Americans and Germans with no direct overland access to his duchy, to which he’d been appointed Governor at the founding, some 32 years ago.

He and many of the other colonists had grown old on Luna, so much so that they couldn’t return home to the isles without risking cardiac arrest, due to what now seemed like an excessive amount of gravity. Nevil’s body had adjusted to the low g’s, and thanks to his growing up on Earth his average lifespan had been greatly expanded, as had many others whose latent strength made them seemingly superhuman compared to those few colonists that had been born on the moon. They’d never known the higher gravity, and had learned to walk, run, jump, and otherwise live normally in what others had initially felt to be an alien environment.

Nevil had a foot in both worlds now, having been on Luna for so long. Some days he felt like a native, others reminded him of his roots on Earth…but today was unique in that he held a pure hatred for his home country. A nation he had been fervently loyal to his entire life, which was one of the reasons he’d been entrusted with the leadership of Tranquility and mostly left to his own purposes with regards to the colony. He ruled here, for lack of a better term, but now he was truly ashamed of his British heritage, something that turned his stomach with all sorts of internal conflict.

The Royal Navy had tried to kill his grandchildren…and almost succeeded. They’d attacked and then destroyed the defense station they’d both been posted to, with no attempts made at capturing the behemoth American station or offering the crew an honorable surrender. The Navy, along with the rest of the UK it seemed, was out for blood.

The same could be said of the Americans, though the British/Japanese alliance had them playing more defense than offense these days, with the major exception being the ground war. When the UK had launched a combined offensive against the American Lunar territories they’d encountered more resistance than they’d expected and quickly found themselves losing territory once the new ground war kicked off. If it wasn’t for the help of the Japanese and Indian armies, the Americans would have overrun them entirely instead of the perpetual stalemate that had ensued.

Nevil was glad that there hadn’t been a rout, because Tranquility could have come under attack with the backlash. As it was they were in a stable portion of Luna, but no territory was truly safe from a dropship launched attacked, so Nevil’s own security forces had been instructed to stay alert at all times. The small military base within the city had long since been evacuated. Its troops redeployed to the front where they had been deemed ‘necessary.’ Nevil had still been fuming about that call on the part of Admiral Popplewell, leaving him with little more than a police force should Tranquility come under attack, when the message from Carolyn had come through.

Truth be told, Nevil had been on edge ever since the war started, with four of his six grandchildren in service to the American military. Pauli was stationed on Earth and presumably safe, while Martin had been serving in the American Mars fleet and captured by Star Force when they took control of the planet and booted all the warring nations out. The Duke had been utterly distraught until he learned that Martin and the rest of the troops had been returned to Earth unharmed, feeling like he’d dodged the proverbial bullet there.

But now he had come within a hair of losing his other two grandchildren, with his own people to blame and Star Force to thank for their rescue. How could the Royal Navy refuse to pick up enemy escape pods? Where was their honor? Nevil’s blood was boiling so much that he didn’t even notice his personal assistant enter his office.

“Duke,” the thin man said politely, drawing his attention with a wave of his hand. “We have received a message from Star Force.”

Nevil came to a standstill in the center of his office, his back to the thick transparent windows looking out over the Lunar surface from the 34th floor of the royal tower. “To whom was it addressed?”

“It’s a general announcement to the moon, announcing their implementation of a blockade.”

“A blockade?” Nevil said, rubbing the thin white goatee on his thick jaw thoughtfully. “Same as they did on Mars?”

“It appears so. Only the factions involved in the war are affected. All other transit will be allowed to proceed normally. The message has been uploaded to your terminal if you would like to review it in detail. There were a number of stipulations regarding the interaction between involved and uninvolved parties.”

“Thank you, I will,” the Duke said distractedly. “Tell the quartermaster to begin tightening his stores. We may have to enact rationing at some point, and I’d rather that be later than sooner.”

The man nodded respectfully then backtracked out of the office to relay Nevil’s orders, leaving the Governor to his pacing, which resumed as soon as the door closed. His circular loop swung by his desk where he picked up a datapad and linked in to his office’s computer system, finding and pulling up the Star Force communiqué.

As he expected, the message was both proper and thorough. They were locking down all orbital traffic, including short range hops from territory to territory via dropship. Overland transit hadn’t been banned, as of yet, but one condition of allowing the non-involved parties to continue with orbital shipping was a mandatory restriction against trade between nation zones involved in the war…which meant his duchy was completely isolated. He couldn’t receive supplies or troops from other allied territories, nor could he supply them via air traffic, and there were no overland routes available that didn’t pass through nonaligned territories.

That meant for the duration of this blockade Tranquility was on its own with no way to resupply or evacuate…though he imagined that Star Force would allow a surrender if he allowed them to confiscate the facilities and territory. It would either be that or wait for London to decide to abandon the war…and he knew deep down in the pit of his churning gut that they’d let Tranquility rot before doing so, just like they did with their colonies on Mars.

Nevil had kept in close contact with Duke Chamberlain, Governor of the Sunrise colony on Mars during the ordeal and he knew that they’d suffered through severe rationing up until the time came when Star Force landed troops and relieved him of his duchy, evacuating all of the colonists and tending to the sick and injured as they were shipped off planet. Privately the Duke had confided in Nevil that he had been grateful for the end of the ordeal, noting that it seemed that Star Force cared more about the British citizenry than London did.

His contemporary had recently arrived back on Earth, unsure what his future assignments, if any, would be. Like Nevil he had relished the position of Governor, both for the opportunity and responsibility of expanding British holdings across the star system. Both men had done well to grow their upstart colonies into something truly grand, second only to Star Force in terms of structural and economic largess, making the handful of large British colonies the envy of their neighbors.

Not everyone was so keen on building civilian populations, to be sure. Many simply sought natural resources or other economic/military ventures, but the British colonization push had been civilization based, intent on spreading its people outward. Nevil had wholeheartedly agreed with this approach, and was pleased with the gentlemen’s rivalry with the Americans when the colonization rush began…it was the more recent years during which that rivalry had turned into an economic feud when his mood had soured, but he had always supported his grandchildren, even if they weren’t British.

Why his two daughters had chosen to marry foreigners he’d never understand, but in the end they both turned out to be good men, which he was fortunate for. His family had long since been the foundation of his existence, bolstered by the fact that they were distant relatives of the royal family, but primarily rooted in the solidarity the family structure provided. He not only had close ties with his immediate family, but those of his two deceased brothers as well. The Windsor family stuck together, supported each other in times of distress and honored each other with each individual’s accomplishments adding to the family name.

Even the American branch of the family was as much an integrated part as the British components…as well as one small New Zealand offshoot. Never before had the family known division, but now Nevil’s loyalties to his British roots came into direct contrast with those of his family…and it was eating him up.

Not only that, but he, as Governor, had a responsibility to the 67,854 colonists under his care…and thanks to London they were going to be disregarded in favor of national pride. How could the common bloke back home be so ignorant? Was it because they felt themselves safe on Earth that they had no concern for those of us up here? Are we just pawns in some massive game of chess?

Nevil sighed, tossing his datapad back on the desk as he continued to pace. His metaphor was more apt than he’d intended. London was treating the colonists as pawns…and in chess, the pawns were the first ones sacrificed in order to protect the King.

But they weren’t pawns, damn it. They were people. London had a responsibility to them as much as to those British citizens on Earth and they were completely abandoning that duty! The Duke wondered if there was any shred of honor left in the politics of parliament these days.

One thing was certain, he wasn’t going to abandon these people…not that he could leave either, but that wasn’t the point. He did have a code of honor, and as Governor he had more responsibilities than perks, and he’d be damned if he was going to let his people suffer for the sake of London’s war.

His arms locked behind his back as he paced, signaling a trend of thought. An idea was in the makings, and a bold one at that. He’d been bordering on dishonor ever since the war had begun by taking sides against his own family, but since he wasn’t involved in the military side of things he’d convinced himself that he was neutral in the conflict and posed no threat to his American kin, but his heart had still been torn in two, unable to fully support his fellow Brits when their victory could mean the death of his family members.

Now he had an opportunity to right that wrong, even if it wasn’t of his own making. His honor would be restored and his duty to his subjects acquitted at the same time…all thanks to Star Force. Their blockade gave him the separation he needed, and if there were to be tough times ahead he was going to turn Star Force’s crippling strategy into a game changer, if they would allow him to, and he figured they just might.

The Duke stopped in front of the east window and stared out over the barren Lunar surface, then tilted his chin down a bit to look out over the city-state that seemed to be creeping further and further out from the tower each day as more buildings slowly assimilated the moon’s surface, civilizing it into a proper home, one that both he and his family could be proud of.

Or so he hoped, because if he was able to pull this off, it would be the only home he had left.

Turning about he walked over to his desk and stabbed the comm button. “Mr. Sandsbury, I need all my senior staff members in my office in one hour. No excuses for not attending. We have an urgent matter to discuss.”

3

March 29, 2109

“First you seized our facilities and ships in the asteroid belt,” the German Ambassador complained to Davis, “then you went and kicked everyone off Mars, but now a blockade of the Moon! This is totally unacceptable! We are a sovereign nation and have the right to go to war if we so choose. It is not for you to decide if and when there is to be any fighting. You’ve already laid down your economic penalties, which are damning enough, but you’re not the UN. You have no right to dictate to us over matters that do not concern you.”

“Be wary, Ambassador,” Davis said evenly, seated behind his desk  in a practiced pose of calm with the busy backdrop of the sun-soaked Atlantis cityscape behind him with regular dropship and aircraft flights coming to and fro, making the ocean city the busiest commerce port on the planet. “If you claim to have the right to make war, then Star Force likewise has that right. And if we should choose to blockade rather than fight, then that’s our prerogative.”

The Ambassador’s face scrunched up in disgust. “You are a business, not a nation.”

“We are the guardians,” Davis said more pointedly, “and your war serves no purpose. If there was legitimate cause for fighting we’d be the first to jump in, fists swinging.”

“And you don’t consider Japan’s nuking of the American shipyards a legitimate cause?”

“If that were truly your motivation it would be a different matter entirely, but we both know it is not. It was an excuse to join in the powergrab, and we will continue to reduce the war’s scope up until Germany either surrenders or has nothing left to fight with. You still have time to save face and your Lunar territories…some of them anyway. If we have to land troops to stop the surface campaigns you’ll lose all of them.”

“So…you mean to pick us clean to the bone?”

“I hope it won’t come to that,” Davis said, steepling his fingers in front of his chest, “but we’re prepared to do so if Germany and the others nations don’t stop fighting of their own accord.”

The German Ambassador shook his head in disgust. “You have no right.”

“As of now, Germany is being stricken with a military ban on Luna. If you remove your troops immediately you will be allowed to conduct civilian projects in your current territories…though not those you took from the South Africans. You’ll have to relinquish those, but the others will come under Star Force protection when you withdraw your troops. If the British or the Japanese wish to try and add them to their holdings, they’ll have our military to deal with. If you persist in waging a ground war for territories that you know I’m not going to let you keep, then you’ll be expelled from Luna entirely.”

“You’d make all the gains my people have fought so hard to acquire mean nothing?” the Ambassador protested. “Thousands of Germans have died fighting this war to come to the aid of the Americans in what we believed was a just cause, and you’d have us give back what we’ve rightfully won as if this whole thing was some giant game where you get to reset the pieces after it’s over?”

“The pieces aren’t going back where they were, Ambassador. The map is changing, and those nations involved in this war are losing territory. You’ve already lost Mars. What do you have to gain by continuing to fight?”

The German was silent for a moment, chewing on the inside of his cheek distractedly. “If we were to back out now, the American fleet would be overrun. We won’t abandon them.”

“This war is coming to a close, sooner or later. The question before you now is how much will Germany have left when it does end?”

“You didn’t answer my question. What about the American fleet?”

“If you both surrender, my fleet will move in to protect your installations and ships, as we have always said we would do, but we will not protect those who are perpetuating the aggression.”

“You would equate Germany with Japan?”

“Not entirely. When all is said and done Japan will have to atone for its actions.”

“You intend to lengthen their ban?”

“What we do will depend on their past actions and future ones. The conflict isn’t over and I’m not about to start quoting terms while there is still fighting going on.”

“We will not surrender,” the Ambassador said firmly, “but would it make any difference to you if we pulled back our forces into defensive arrangements only?”

“It would be noted, but you’re still not going to be able to keep your captured territories.”

The German stood up in disgust and stared down at Davis across his desk. “Geh zur Hölle,” he said icily as he turned around angrily and left.

“Always a pleasure,” Davis whispered as the ambassador descended the staircase.

Flipping his desk computer screen back on he noted the four priority flags that had appeared during the interim, one of which was marked priority 2, making it the highest non-military/emergency rating Star Force used. Davis clicked on the icon and brought up a newscast time-stamped 12 minutes ago, labeled ‘Tranquility Declares Independence.’

The Director’s left eyebrow shot up in curiosity and he touched the icon, which brought the recorded feed up on his display screen. Rather than the typical news anchor offering insights, the feed was a video statement released directly from Tranquility.

“Good morning,” an elderly man offered, accompanied by a curt nod. He was seated at a desk with the Lunar surface visible behind him, bracketed between two flag posts carrying dark blue banners with gold trim and a photo image of Luna centered on the Sea of Tranquility. “I am Duke Nevil Windsor, Governor of the British Lunar colony known as Tranquility. To date we have not been involved in the war, fortunate in geographical isolation, but the currently imposed Star Force blockade now affects us all.”

“Given our limited resources and inability to resupply, either from orbit or overland, my colony faces a difficult road ahead. Star Force won’t rescind the blockade until the war ends…and it appears that the British parliament is not of a current mind to end the war through anything short of total victory. Where then, I ask you, does that leave my colony? If the United Kingdom cannot resupply us, and we cannot purchase supplies from Star Force or our neighbors, are we to be left to starve to death?”

“That is the grim situation that we and other colonies face. I cannot speak for them or their intentions other than to instill a sense of urgency in you that something must be done now, before our colonists begin to suffer. After repeated pleas for assistance from London, they stopped taking my calls, insisting that there was simply nothing they could do so long as Star Force blockaded the moon…but this is not so. I do not fault Star Force for trying to put an end to this war, as they have repeatedly said that the blockade will end when the fighting does, and the reports from an identical situation in Mars have validated their claims.”

“Star Force is not our enemy, and I believe London is counting on their good graces to stop short of starving us to death. They came to the aid of various colonies on Mars after militarily securing those territories, then relocating all the colonists back to Earth. During the interim both our British colonies and others suffered, while our governments back safely on Earth did nothing to right the situation. The colonies and colonists were treated as expendable, and had Star Force’s Martian offensive not been so swift, the damage to those populations would have become much more extreme.”

“I fear a similar repeat of history, even though we are early into the Lunar blockade. Unlike Mars, there are considerably more ground troops here given our proximity to Earth, and even if Star Force repeats their ground offensive to remove all the war factions, I imagine it would take far more time to achieve than my people can afford to wait. Our cached supplies are considerable, but not infinite.”

“I am Governor of the Tranquility colony. I have a responsibility to safeguard the colonists, so too does London. They are derelict in their duty. I will not be so in mine.”

“Cut off from resupply and abandoned to our fate, the United Kingdom has betrayed us. As such, I hereby announce our separation thereof. If London is not concerned with our fate, then we shall make our own way. As of today, the 29th of March, 2109, the colony of Tranquility claims its sovereignty out of necessity and severs all ties with the United Kingdom. May they continue their war apart from us, and with the considerable wisdom inherent in Star Force, I ask that they rescind the blockade orders for Tranquility, given that we are no longer affiliated with a faction in this war.”

“To my fellow countrymen…I say that we do not take this separation lightly. It was not of our choosing, but of London’s making. If parliament cannot safeguard our citizenry, then it is up to us to do it ourselves.”

“And furthermore, if democracy is only interested in the well being of the masses and is willing to sacrifice the minority, then it is not a system for the honorable man. The honorable man fights to protect each and every citizen, poor or rich, weak or strong, worthless or valuable. This is the common cause of brotherhood.”

“Yesterday the colonists of Tranquility took part in two final, symbolic votes. The first of which was the affirmation of separation. I and the other administrators of this colony had already made the decision, the vote was to determine the level of agreement amongst the colonists. 83.2% were in favor, 2.4% opposed, 14.4% abstained.”

“The second vote was to determine the future of our new nation’s leadership. Rather than repeat the mistakes of London, it was decided that I should continue to lead Tranquility as Regent. The affirmation vote was 92.7% in favor.”

“As Regent of Tranquility, I hereby open up diplomatic channels with all the nations of Earth and Star Force. We offer the hand of friendship and economy to those who would accept it, and open our borders to civilian commerce and migration. At present, we do not possess a proper military, and do not plan on fielding one for some time. We ask that Star Force’s protection of sovereign states be extended to us as we seek to grow our new nation through economic ventures rather than warfare.”

“Finally, to my former countrymen. We will always consider you brothers, regardless of the actions of your government. Never let yourself think otherwise.”

“Again, I bid you good morning and good day. May all our futures be equally bright.”

The video feed ended, replaced by a news anchor who began to offer commentary…at which point Davis shut the link off, a wry smile forming on his face. The first cracks were beginning to show, and now the warring parties had to worry not only about the actions of their enemies and Star Force, but the possibility of secession by the spacebound populations that they’d been nil to consider while prosecuting this war.

Davis knew that if he showed a viable path for that possibility using Tranquility as an example then others would break away, or at the least the threat of which might persuade the warmongers to seek armistice.

Bringing up a secure comm prompt, Davis typed out a quick message to Archon command, not knowing which one of them would be on station, recommending that Tranquility immediately be exempted from the blockade and extended military protection should the British attempt to reassert their authority or should anyone else try to take advantage of the vulnerable colony.

Next, Davis sent a message off to his wing of the corporation, indicating that the ban on services was to be kept in place for Tranquility, just in case the local merchants on Luna had ideas to the contrary. After which he contacted the Australian and Brazilian Ambassadors, urging them to offer what economic assistance they could, short of becoming middlemen reselling Star Force goods, which would be a violation of the existing rules of conduct concerning banned nations.

Lastly, he sent a message to Greg, who he thought was still in the city, requesting a naval and Archon escort for himself on a trip out to Luna. If this fledgling colony was going to have half a chance of surviving, he needed to meet with the Regent face to face to settle on terms…as well as to send a message to everyone else that he was taking their declaration of independence seriously.

4

April 3, 2109

Greg sat in the seat next to Davis as their dropship disconnected from the Lunar starport, studying his datapad. The thrust from the engines made the screen bob around a bit in his hands, but he had little trouble analyzing the recent reports concerning the large scale war taking place below. With the blockade in place the tactical situation had altered significantly. Without dropship transit, attacks could now only take place on adjacent territories, limiting the warring factions’ attack options…as well as their resupply routes.

Certain opportunities had presented themselves, most notably a mismatch between a German territory and an adjacent Japanese pair. An American stronghold lay just a few hundred miles to the North, but without dropship flights any reinforcements would have to come overland, passing through either Russian, Canadian, or Polish territories. Given that those nations were not involved in the war they weren’t of a mind to allow transit, thus isolating the German territory.

Japan had sought to take advantage of this, launching a new assault with what troops they had in their two adjacent territories. The Germans had been forced into a makeshift defense, with neither side really geared up for this kind of fighting with barely over 400 troops between them, but they were determined to make the most out of the situation. As it was, the Japanese had captured various satellite facilities within the territory while the German defenders held on to their main colony structure.

Reports of similar small scale engagements filled Greg’s datapad, eliciting a slow shake of his head. What they sought to gain from all of this he didn’t know. After what happened on Mars they should have known by now that Star Force wasn’t going to let them keep any of their captured territories, so why fight over what they couldn’t possess? It didn’t make any strategic sense, but it was the situation at hand and something they were going to have to work through regardless.

Further down the intelligence reports, compiled by a select Archon team working out of Atlantis, he saw that the one of the American military bases had tried to reinforce a relatively nearby base via a short dropship transfer, never making orbit, but hovering across the surface at low altitude and still a violation of the blockade. An addendum indicated that the dropships had subsequently been confiscated by a Star Force retaliation raid, which also seized control of the British facility that the Americans were attempting to overrun. Prisoner counts were tallied on both sides, with an uncertainty icon next to the numbers.

Greg tapped on the icon and got a link to a subsequent report, indicating that the satellite facilities in that territory were being swept up by Archon teams with a suggestion that the numbers would be rising in short order.

Switching back to the main map of Luna, he noted that that particular territory had a Star Force marker on it, with a yellow outline indicating that there was still some level of conflict within the area. Many others were indicated, most of which also belonged to Star Force with a scattering of national territories. Those with ongoing conflicts were highlighted in slowly pulsing red, with dozens of the tiny regions on the moon-wide map flashing as if they were viral infections on an otherwise healthy planetoid.

Switching back to the main report screen the Archon scrolled down the list of captured ships resulting from the blockade. Everything owned by the warring factions in orbit around Luna at the time had been confiscated, including 15 warships. All of those had been damaged during the seizure, but repair crews had gotten them workable enough to slowly limp to the nearest shipyard. It was also located in Lunar orbit, but with too few slips available for all of the repair and refit work needing to be done on the captured ships.

Those cargo ships that had been seized were therefore redirected to other shipyards, given that most of them had been taken without a naval fight and their engines were still intact. Small boarding teams had docked and secured the ships, followed up by assaults on the orbital facilities of the seven warring nations. In one quick operation that lasted the better part of 3 days, Star Force had locked down the Lunar micro-system, leaving only the surface of the moon still to be dealt with…though without resupply it was just a matter of time before they capitulated.

Or that was the hope. Greg knew they’d probably have to go down and root out some stubborn remnants, but with Mars setting the precedent he didn’t think that there’d be as much force required this time around. It was, however, going to take them some time to get to the desperation point.

Davis glanced over Greg’s shoulder at his war reports. “Anything new?” he asked as the dropship began a heavier descent burn to bleed off orbital speed.

“About like we expected, though there’s a lot of small engagements popping up that hadn’t been there before. Looks like it’s going to take some time for reality to sink in.”

“Any moves against Tranquility?”

“No, we’ve got the area locked down tight and mechs ready for a hot drop in case anything does get through. If there are going to be any problems, they’ll be internal.”

“Dissidents?”

Greg shrugged. “Could be anything from a psychopath to a British intelligence cell.”

“I like the positive thinking,” Davis mocked.

“I’m just pointing out that we’ve got all the big angles covered. It’s the small ones that tend to surprise you.”

“Point taken,” Davis said as the ‘golf ball’ dropship decelerated over the Sea of Tranquility. The ‘sea’ wasn’t actually water, which would have boiled off in the airless environment, but rather a smooth basaltic plain that appeared darker from orbital views than the rest of the moon. All the ‘seas’ made up approximately 16% of Luna’s surface, with the Sea of Tranquility being of average size, a little over 800 km in diameter.

The city of Tranquility was located in the northeastern section of the sea, which sat on a relatively flat plain between two lower regions on the east and northwest, the Sea of Crisis and the Sea of Serenity. To the north was a region of rougher terrain that swung down through the east, cutting off the Sea of Tranquility from the Sea of Crisis, and running down around to the south, making a large backwards ‘C’ that bracketed the east end of the Sea of Tranquility and several territorial zones.

Star Force owned and operated the two adjacent territories to the northeast, neither of which were leased zones. The Australians had one to the northwest, the Spanish one to the southeast, and the Brazilians with two in the center of the Sea to the west/southwest. Little pinpricks of civilization could be seen in six of the seven territories from the monitors inside the dropship, with the exception being the second and more southern Star Force territory, which hadn’t yet been utilized save for housing a connective rail line.

The Brazilians had several visible settlements, as did the Australians. The Spanish had three markers, all of which were sizeable mining sites, but it was the singular city within the formerly British territory that ate up the attention of the monitors. With a scattering of tiny satellite facilities around the perimeter, the central city mushroomed out with a series of tightly packed and interconnected buildings centering on one spire-like tower with a blue strobe light on top, seeming to visibly signal to the approaching dropship.

As they got closer two sets of landing pads became visible, with their target being the southern of the two groups that housed six individual pads, lined up 3x2 with a rectangular docking ring circling the enclosed area. Two of those pads already housed British dropships, caught on the ground by the blockade and now the property of Tranquility by default. The Star Force dropship touched down on one of the empty four slots, then waited for the docking umbilical to stretch out from the rectangular ring and mate with the airlock on the side of the giant spherical ship.

The whole docking assembly had been designed and built by Star Force, so the atmospheric connection proceeded without delay and Greg led Davis out through the small tunnel with two armored Knights in tow. He wore no armor, but had a stinger pistol strapped to his right hip over top his pristine white Star Force uniform, marred only by the long red stripes extending down from his collar, along the length of his outer arms and legs before tucking into his spotless white shoes that the bottom of the pants melded into seamlessly.

Greg met the Tranquility security detachment at the other side of the umbilical, sizing them up. There were four guards, armed with little more than cuffs and a baton, wearing the uniforms of British policemen. They parted respectfully as he walked out a few steps ahead of Davis to where the newly minted Regent and several other personnel were waiting for them.

Greg nodded his respect to the elderly man, but said nothing, waiting for Davis to emerge, flanked by the two Knights which reflexively drew all eyes wide and upwards.

“Regent Windsor,” Davis greeted, extending his hand.

“Director,” Nevil said graciously, returning the man’s firm grip. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance once again.”

“Oh?” Davis said, taking a second glance at the slightly taller man. “I wasn’t aware that we’d met before.”

Nevil waved off his concern. “A lifetime ago, at some conference I can’t even remember the name of. Though I must say, you’re looking fitter now than then.”

“Thank you,” Davis said, accepting the compliment without offering an explanation. Rumors surrounding his longevity had taken up far too much of his time in idle conversations for his liking. “I understand this colony has become something of a retirement home itself?”

“This way, please,” Nevil insisted as the group began to walk, with Greg nosing in front of Davis while the Knights brought up the rear. “We’ve found that the low gravity considerably extends one’s useful years. As a result, more than a third of our population is over the age of 60, but productive they still are. We’ve accumulated a bit of a brain trust that I’m thankful for, now that we no longer have the resources of Earth to fall back upon.”

“Speaking of which, how are you faring in way of supplies?” Davis asked as they were escorted into a tram terminal with the door to an empty car open and waiting.

“We’re good for the next three months, minimum,” Nevil assured him as the group stepped aboard the bus-sized monorail, which had also been designed and built by Star Force engineers as a means of both personnel and cargo hauling to and from the landing pads. Once inside and the doors sealed, the tram took off through a pressurized tunnel that would lead directly to the understructure of the central tower.

“Though we’ll obviously need a means of resupply after that. I’ve already struck a preliminary deal with Brazil for foodstuffs and other basic items that we can’t currently produce on our own, which was one of the things I was hoping to speak with you about. We’d like to expand our infrastructure as much as we can afford, with an eye towards self-sufficiency.”

“What are you looking at as far as GDP?” Davis asked, already having run some basic guestimates.

“An improvement, actually, now that we don’t have to pay any more bloody national taxes,” Nevil said with obvious enthusiasm. “Conservative estimates say we’ll be running around 32 billion pounds, though if we can centralize our industry with a few key facilities I think we’ll be pushing 40 within two years. Now that we no longer have any red tape to work around, we’ve been getting initial inquiries from a number of corporations wishing to set up business ventures. I haven’t made any decisions as of yet, because I knew we needed to square things away first.”

“I appreciate the gesture, knowing how critical it is for you to get your economic foothold established as soon as possible.”

Nevil waved off the comment with a downward thrust of his right hand, upon which he now wore a sizeable ring on his index finger. “It is no gesture, I assure you, but rather a necessity of function. You corner the space economy, and as such set the playing field all others have to work out of, though some do try to work things out to the contrary, don’t they? That is not a complaint on my part. You’ve been even handed and notoriously fair since you began this grand corporation…or is it nation by now? Neither seems to fit Star Force these days, and I suppose it’s all really semantics. Star Force is what you make it to be, and we’re all better off for it.”

“Nice to have a fan,” Davis acknowledged as the tram came to a stop and opened up beneath the tower onto a promenade filled with kiosks circling a small park.

“Not as grand as your designs, but this is our one aesthetic indulgence,” Nevil said, raising his hands theatrically towards the park that was filled with trees and small artificial creeks, all of which were crisscrossed by paths and patios used for both transit and recreation. Davis could barely make out a few cracks of infrastructure on the far side of through greenery, otherwise he wouldn’t have been able to guess at the size of the area, save for mentally calculating the arc of the circular perimeter.

Four massive support columns rose up out of the forest and intersected with a milky, crystalline ceiling back lit for illumination and giving a decent imitation of sky. The columns, however, didn’t fit with the motif and stuck out like a sore thumb, but had to be placed there for engineering reasons to support the tower above.

“The rest of the city is economically designed,” Nevil continued. “Not claustrophobic by any stretch of the imagination, but new arrivals from Earth sometimes have a hard time adjusting to the completely urban feel. This plaza often helps them breathe during those first few weeks, after which they adapt quickly enough. This way,” he said, motioning to an elevator annex built into the outer wall.

Nevil waved his staff ahead of him, while he and Davis took the next available elevator. Greg went with them, telling the bulky Knights to follow them up to level 62 after Nevil realized that the five of them weren’t going to fit in together and offered directions in lieu of an escort that he’d already sent on ahead.

The trio got off three levels shy of the top of the tower which fortunately, from an engineering standpoint, didn’t have the height limitations of those on Earth, thanks to the lesser gravity. As a result the builders, who were not Star Force, were able to pack a lot of living space into a very small footprint, extending the reach of the tower well above the rest of the surrounding buildings, some of which rose up above 20 stories in their own right.

“Here we are,” Nevil said, gesturing the two men towards a set of large, ornate doors that had been propped open by two security guards that stood at attention. Inside was a long, wood rimmed, glass centered conference table with a third of the chairs already taken by Nevil’s staff. Davis sat down at the head of the table opposite the taller chair where the Regent was obviously intended to sit while Greg waited in the hall momentarily for the Knights to arrive, then ordered them to stand guard outside next to Tranquility’s own guards…which fared poorly in all comparisons.

Greg took a seat cattycorner on Davis’s left as the Director leaned forward on his elbows. “Before we get down to details, there is a matter of which I need to inform you,” he said, no emotion whatsoever in his voice.

Nevil nodded for him to proceed, curious with a hint of apprehension.

“The ban of services imposed on the United Kingdom also falls upon Tranquility. You cannot escape it by declaring independence.”

The Regent frowned deeply. “I thought by coming here you were signaling your readiness to support our declaration of sovereignty?”

“I am and do so. As far as Star Force is concerned Tranquility is an independent nation, equal to all others in stature. You are also welcome to open an embassy in Atlantis at your convenience, the costs of which Star Force covers, of course, as all ambassadorial staff are considered our guests.”

“I’ll be pleased to take you up on that offer, but I don’t understand how Britain’s ban can affect us if you consider us sovereign?”

“As of now, the UK has a minimum ban of 35 years. That number will increase dramatically as this war continues to progress. We’re holding all the nations involved accountable for their actions, and as they continue to misbehave their penalties will likewise increase. What they do from this point on will not affect you, but what they did in the past does, for you were them at the time.”

“Tranquility did not participate in the war effort,” Nevil argued. “It seems unfair to penalize us for it, especially considering our unique circumstances and needs.”

“If we had not acted,” Greg answered in Davis’s place, “and the UK had won this war, Tranquility, along with every other British colony, would have gained from the spoils. Participation in the war effort isn’t the issue. You were part of the UK. You gain from their success, therefore you pay for their failures. We will not allow pieces of a nation to escape our ban by breaking off, even if that isn’t your intent in this case. You were British, and their black mark carried with you into your independence.”

Nevil sighed. “Logical, I’ll give you that, but it also seems excessively harsh.”

“This decision was made long before the war started,” Davis explained, “dating back to the brief war we fought with the Chinese. Up until now it hasn’t had cause to be implemented, but it has always been our policy.”

“However,” he added, holding up a hand for emphasis, “the way in which you broke ties with your home country is not irrelevant. Had this been an amicable split, you would have carried with you the same penalty in full, but since your reasons for independence put you at odds with the war that has caused the penalties to be applied, the ban upon you will be mitigated.”

“How much?” Nevil asked, a glint of hope returning to his eyes.

“Seeing as how you also acted for the protection of your people rather than for political aims, the 35 year ban is being reduced down to a single year, effective beginning with your declaration of independence.”

Nevil sat back in his chair and audibly sighed, his formerly taught body relaxing as he sagged back against the thick cushions. “Now that is the justice I’ve come to expect from Star Force. You leave just enough of the punishment in place to remind us of the seriousness of the offense and that past actions cannot, and should not be ignored, but reserve your full wrath for those more deeply involved in the crimes.”

Davis exchanged a glance with Greg. “Best compliment I’ve had in years.”

Greg smiled back, then turned to look at the Regent. “Though you have the right to construct your own military for defensive purposes, I suggest that you don’t. I can promise you the protection of our fleet so long as you hold to our rules, same as every other nation. Given your limited finances, creation of a military would be counterproductive to your country’s long term development.”

“I had hoped you’d say that. That also means you’ll prevent any militaristic move on the part of London to reacquire this territory? On that point, by the way, are you recognizing our claim to this entire territorial region as well or just the city?”

“The entire region goes with you, given that there are no nearby adjacent British territories to claim ownership,” Greg explained.

“Excellent,” Nevil said, wringing his hands together with joy. “May we then discuss future projects, to be commenced after the 1 year ban has run its course?”

“Discuss, yes,” Davis answered. “Order no. That will have to take place day 1, but there’s no reason we can’t get all your ducks in a row beforehand.”

“Ah, good! First of which I’d like to ask your advice on a foodstuff production facility. I know you offer several varieties for sale, and given that we’re going to need to be producing our own down the line rather than having to pay the expenses of importing, what sort of setup would you envision for a colony…excuse me, nation of our size?”

 “I was looking over the parameters of that challenge during my trip here,” Davis said, not missing a beat, “and I recommend buying all foodstuffs from our Lunar market during your first year. That way you can experiment with the various types of foodstuffs we produce, ironing out what your population actually needs, and then begin constructing your own facilities to make those very same products. If you start with generic factories at the onset, you’ll be dictating to your people what to eat, rather than producing what they want.”

“I see your point, Director. Patience and planning will serve us better than haste. I hadn’t realized your facilities were so specific.”

“They’re modular, but it’s costly to swap out the default equipment, so it’s more economical to adjust your demands prior to construction.”

“To maximize our limited finances, yes, I agree. Let me back the question up a bit further then. What do you suggest we start with, in terms of acquiring new infrastructure?”

Davis smiled. “An excellent question. If I were you, I’d begin with a class-3 mining substation, positioned approximately 50 miles to the southwest, adjacent to several of your existing mining sites…”

From there the discussion continued for hours, with Davis pouring out a host of recommendations and the two leaders coming to terms on a variety of matters, all of which would insure a close and productive relationship between the two men and their respective economies well past the Regent’s reign. The ‘Tranqs,’ as their people would come to be called, would take their place as one of Star Force’s closest allies in the years to come and set an example for other colonies that Earth was no longer the key to their future. Their destiny was in their own hands now, if they so chose to embrace it.

And many more would do so in the coming days.

5

May 15, 2109

Archon Kelly-522 checked the report handed to her by one of the techs Star Force had assisting the South Africans with the dismantling of the weaponry on their orbital capitol station. The datapad had a list of items removed and work estimates on the remainders, coupled with personnel assignments with holes in some of the schedules due to a lack of sufficient manpower. She’d hoped to have gotten the mission accomplished within a week, but since the South Africans hadn’t supplied half of the techs they’d promised, her people were having to handle the majority of the dismantlement on the large habitat station.

 “Reshuffle team 3 over to the PDLs. They’re a pain to get to, but once they’re finished it’ll free up a work skiff to help with the dorsal cannons,” she said, mentally reworking the schedule to shave off a few hours. Their SR had been parked outside the large space station for four days, with a fully armored Kelly and a handful of security officers boarding the station along with the techs to insure everything went smoothly.

Three weeks previously the South Africans, feeling the pressure of the Lunar blockade and seeing the seizure of a few more isolated warships, had solicited Star Force for terms of surrender, hoping to maintain some of their space infrastructure before it was all confiscated away. The agreement that Davis struck with them included a 30 year ban on services, reduction of their Lunar territories to four, a permanent ban on any Mars activity, and complete disarmament of their space forces, including the defensive weaponry on their stations.

Kelly and other Archons were leading tech teams to assist with the dismantling, and to keep the South Africans from stalling or rethinking their surrender agreement. In exchange Star Force had guaranteed to protect them against reprisals from the others still fighting the war, contingent on the disarmament. Removal of their ground troops from Luna was already underway, with a Star Force assisted retreat from their few occupied territories, but until every single spacebound weapon in South Africa’s possession was secured, the agreement wasn’t sealed and the clock on the ban wouldn’t start to count down.

What South African warships had survived the war to date had already been surrendered, leaving the rest of the ground troops and the station and cargo ship weapons dismantlement as the final steps to full compliance, which would take the warring nations down from 7 to 6, though those that still remained at odds were fervently pushing their offensives, seeming to want to take as much territory as they could before the blockade really sunk its teeth into their supply levels.

Naval warfare throughout the Earth micro-system had escalated as well, with the American side faring poorly. The fleet they’d lost at Mars had seriously hurt their numbers, and the recent influx of Japanese small scale capital ships, fresh off their shipyards, had begun to swing the tide to their side. The Americans hadn’t fielded a new warship since the initial attack on their shipbuilding infrastructure, and the Germans and West Africans had only added a few to theirs, with the latter making purchases from corporate suppliers in lieu of building their own.

The ground war had likewise swung the other way after a key victory by an allied German/West African assault force that took out one of the pesky Japanese strongholds. With it eliminated, the threat to three nearby American territories was lifted, allowing a redistribution of personnel that gave the impetus back to the Americans who put the screws to the British in retaliation for their orbital gains.

One of those gains was the total capture of Habitat Block 18. Once it fell, the other four complete blocks followed quickly enough, given that the Americans had pulled some troops out of the others to reinforce more critical fronts. That left the British in control of more than 90% of the orbital State of Nimbus and nearly 1 million American civilians being taken as British prisoners. The 54th state had been reclaimed by the Americans’ historical sovereign, jokingly referred to in the British press as payback for the 13 colonies they’d taken away from England during the Revolutionary War.

“Hold on,” Kelly said, raising an armored hand up at the tech, indicating that he should stay put while she received a signal via her armor’s comm system.

“Archon, we’ve just received a warning from fleet command,” the Captain of the SR relayed to her. “They report that a West African battle fleet is headed our way, four hours out.”

Kelly closed her eyes for a moment. “Please tell me we have reinforcements enroute?”

“Yes, but only one will arrive prior to the intercept window. Two more are mathematically calculated to arrive 3 minutes after the West Africans.”

“Fleet composition?”

“12 warships, frigate up to cruiser in tonnage, but staggered arrival. Apparently they disguised their approach vectors on tracks to current hot zones, then broke off towards us to get the jump on the fleet. We’ll have one cutter and SR-119 to deal with at least a pair of cruisers before our own frigate and destroyer arrive. We’ve got other ships heading our way, but hours behind.”

“Not good,” Kelly said, switching her armor’s comm system back to external audio so she could address the tech. “Change in plans. How much of the weaponry can you get back online in three and a half hours?”

“Online?” the tech asked, confused.

“We’ve got incoming.”

“Damn,” the man said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “I don’t know. What do you want us to prioritize?”

“Missiles,” she said without hesitation. If the enemy got close enough for the point defense weapons then the station was as good as dead, and there were more than 20,000 people onboard.

“Three…unless you can scrape me up a larger workforce?”

“No promises…go,” she ordered, pointing for emphasis.

The tech scurried off, nudging his way past two South Africans as he activated his headset to inform his work crews to stop what they were doing and start undoing everything they’d been working on the past four days. He disappeared down another hallway as Kelly began walking towards the station’s control center.

“Captain, how far out is the cutter?”

“Half an hour.”

“Where’s the nearest target?”

“If speeds hold, it’ll be here within two hours, but our best guess is it’ll rendezvous with the main group and approach at their speed. Attacking one or two at a time would be foolish.”

“Attacking Star Force is foolish,” she reminded him. “I assume they’ve been warned?”

“They don’t appear to care,” the Captain said grimly. “Their feud with the South Africans seems to be overwhelming their judgement.”

“Who has control of the cutter?”

“The Mjolnir.”

“Get me a comm relay to Harper.”

“One moment,” the SR Captain said, arranging the linkage using his ship as a conduit between Kelly’s short range transmitter and the far off Star Force battleship.

“Harper here, Archon.”

“What are your plans, Captain?”

“Get between them and you and dare them to go through,” he said icily. “If they attack us we’re going to nail every warship they possess to the wall and I’ve informed them of that fact.”

“And if they’re determined to attack?”

“It’ll be close, but I think we can take them. Can’t guarantee if the station will survive if they focus their attack there instead of on us.”

“That’s what concerns me,” Kelly admitted. “What’s the math look like for a harassment run with the cutter?”

“Dicey. We can get out and back to hit one of their lone frigates, but only if they maintain unit cohesion. If I send the cutter out and they decide to press their smaller ships forward, they’ll get to the station when it’s unguarded.”

“We’ve got to thin their numbers while we can,” Kelly differed. “We’ll have some of the station’s armament online, plus the defense systems on the SR so we won’t be totally helpless. Go kill what you can before they get here. This station’s armor is nil, and I’d rather have the least amount of enemy weapons come within range as we can manage.”

“If that’s the way you want to play it,” Harper offered.

“It is.”

“Diverting now. Keep your fingers crossed.”

“No can do, Captain. I’ve got some tech work to assist with and I’m going to need my hands free.”

Crossed fingers or not, the gambit paid off and the Star Force cutter was able to intercept and destroy the West African frigate, using up most of its intercepts during the battle with the larger ship, which had been designed and built by Ares Industries, a private corporation dedicated to the manufacture of space-based weaponry. Their warship line was cheap and functional, with most of their sales going to the smaller nations that couldn’t afford to run their own shipyards and design facilities.

Their frigates were armed with missile banks and a small laser, the former of which had become the staple armament in Earth warfleets. Star Force’s ability to track and destroy most, if not all missiles fired at their ships had slowly prompted additional weapon systems to be pushed to the forefront of the market. The small laser the Ares frigate employed had been one such addition, but only managed to melt a few rivulets of armor from the Star Force cutter before the West African ship was destroyed by a series of medium laser strikes on approach, followed by an offensive missile salvo that the frigate couldn’t stop.

The missiles tore through the moderately thick, but cheaply constructed armor after the first few detonations, ripping a gash in the side of the angular ship that resembled an upright clown fish with a narrow forward profile that was the one positive tactical aspect of the otherwise subpar design. The cutter’s laser strikes hit the ‘head’ of the frigate, causing moderate damage, but it wasn’t until the Star Force warship used its superior speed to flank the frigate and fire off its missiles at the wide broadside did it get in a killing strike.

As soon as the frigate was eliminated the cutter turned around and accelerated back towards the South African station…but not precisely. Harper had the ship on an intercept course a few thousand kilometers out where he expected the main bulk of the attacking fleet to rendezvous. If he could use the cutter to hit them from behind and harass them enough to either stall or break up their lines, then the other two Star Force ships would arrive in better position to defend their people.

The cutter had only its single medium laser, 8 offensive missiles, and 12 intercepts left in its tiny arsenal. The laser would be the most effective, with essentially unlimited shots and a range decent enough to keep the ship out away from the cannons of the West African fleet. Their larger ships, in addition to an insane number of missile banks, were equipped with short ranged cannons, similar to those used on tanks, to be able to deliver a large amount of raw kill power in close engagements while their missiles allowed them to attack at range.

When the cutter finally did arrive at the back of the West African fleet, minutes ahead of their intercept with the station, it chose one of their destroyers and began chipping away at its forward, upper missile banks, given that all of the ships were in reverse position using their engines to decelerate on approach. Thanks to the cutter’s omni-direction thrust design, it was able to keep its ‘forward’ mounted laser on target and succeeded in landing a few long range shots on the openings of the missile boxes rising up along the spine of the destroyer like the fins on a Beta.

Other missile boxes were likewise strung out below the narrow hull, but the cutter’s remote pilot kept his attack on the upper ones, hoping to rack up enough damage to disable some of them from launching…or better yet, trigger an internal explosion.

After the first few shots were landed with impunity, the West African fleet commander decided to dispatch two of his three remaining frigates back to deal with the sniping cutter while the larger ships continued to move in towards their primary target.

Harper nodded, glad that he had succeeded in pulling off two more of their ships. As he watched, the cutter began to slowly reduce its forward speed, essentially pulling the frigates further and further back until they got within their effective missile range…or what they calculated as such, given the cutter’s abilities to chew up missiles…and launched a large, dual reprisal salvo.

With the shorter distance to target, the cutter’s anti-missile laser cupola had less time to track and shoot down the missiles, but it succeeded in knocking off a large chunk of them, then used its remaining intercepts to thin the numbers even more. The last of its offensive missiles were launched, four each at both frigates, before it took the brunt of the West Africans’ attack against its Herculium armored hull, which rotated to starboard in an attempt to protect the medium laser port even as the cupolas continued to down missiles up until the moment they hit.

When the explosive debris cloud dissipated, the cutter remained with a section of its port armor gone and significant internal damage along that side. Two engine vents in the area had also been destroyed, but thanks to the redundant Star Force design the ship was able to accelerate away from the now damaged, but still operational frigates, preserving it for some future use as they assessed their status from the light missile attack, which had managed to destroy the small laser on one of the ships.

Meanwhile the main bulk of the attacking fleet closed within maximum weapons range of the station. Immediately upon doing so racks of long range missiles blossomed from the South African station as tiny streaks traveling out in packs towards the distant ships. Halfway through their journey the attackers flipped back over, having sufficiently decelerated, and launched their own smaller version of the station’s long range missiles, targeting the habitat rather than the SR stationed alongside it, intending to kill as many South Africans as they could before Star Force eventually ground the war down to a close.

The station continued to pour out more and more missiles, never a massive, coordinated salvo, but a slow, steady stream as the launchers had to reload themselves from internal, armored stores rather than launching them from prefabricated launch boxes such as the warships possessed. A few cannons were also operational, but the enemy ships would have to get within closer range for them to become of use, and it appeared that the West Africans weren’t intent on waiting for that to happen.

SR-119 adjusted its positioning slightly, thrusting away from the projected missile track as it activated its own anti-missile systems, which included both lasers and intercepts, and began striking down the West African long range missiles, with the lasers having to rack up more hits than usual to take the larger weapons down. A few got through and hit the station, but most of the attack was blunted.

Those that did hit blew out hull breaches on the outer levels, but Kelly had already evacuated and pressure sealed those areas, creating an armor-like defensive layer made up of the station itself to protect the people inside and make the West Africans earn their kills. The more time they could buy, the closer the two other Star Force ships would get.

More and more missiles kept coming in, but so did the attacking fleet, minus a destroyer. It had been destroyed as the station’s long range missiles had targeted it exclusively. Seeing that exchanging long range fire with the station while the SR ate up the majority of their own long range missiles wasn’t going to work, the West Africans moved to engage at closer range, bringing their banks of short range missiles into play along with their cannons.

Almost as if preplanned, nearly simultaneous plumes of hundreds of short range missiles manifested from the fish-like ships as they crossed into firing range along with cannon fire being aimed at the somewhat distant station, but given its massive size it wasn’t difficult to target. Several shells hit and penetrated the outer hull ahead of the missiles, some punching through multiple levels and creating small atmospheric breaches, which pre-designated containment teams jumped into action to seal before the atmosphere was able to slowly drain out of the habitat’s interior.

As the missile swarm neared the halfway point a tiny ship streaked into view a few dozen kilometers away from the station, decelerating hard into the gap directly in the path of the attack. Before it had even nulled out all its momentum the Star Force frigate let loose with its entire compliment of intercepts, firing off the tiny, high speed anti-missile missiles against the enemy’s huge missile wave while picking at more with its fast firing laser cupolas.

A large chunk out of the missile wave disappeared over the course of the next thirty seconds, with SR-119 trying to eat up as much of the remainders as it could. More than 20 missiles still got through, but they didn’t hit in unison, spreading a wide scar of destruction across the habitat without gutting it, helped in part by the slow rotation of the two massive gravity cylinders that made up its center of mass.

More long range missiles streaked out from the top and bottom of the station, along with sporadic cannon fire of its own as the virtually invisible slugs were exchanged with the station taking the worst of the damage. Hull plates continued to be pulverized and expelled into space, creating a cacophony of debris plumes across the metallic surface.

The Star Force frigate, now squaring off directly in the face of the encroaching fleet at less than 2 kilometers, fired off swarms of its own offensive missiles while taking a shot at one of three cruisers with its own small, modular rail gun, drilling a hole through the upper ‘fin’ of the shark-like design, which had three fins of missile banks stretching out from a thick body containing four cannons on the ‘face.’ The rail gun slug passed clean through the fin and continued out the back into space, with the damage triggering secondary explosions within the missiles banks.

The six or so missiles around the point of impact detonated their fuel loads, sheering off the top half of the fin entirely while the cruiser fired more missiles at the station while turning its cannons on the frigate. It launched two solid shells toward the frigate, one of which hit and dented the arm on the top side, before the cruiser utterly disintegrated. The West African ship was sheered in two along the midsection with the debris wash annihilating the briefly surviving forward and back halves.

The cruiser on its port side was also hit with a glancing shot, tearing off the top fin and most of the upper hull, but leaving enough connective tissue beneath to retain something to be labeled as a corpse of the ship. The few pieces of the kamikaze cutter that remained recognizable shot off into space on the far side at diverging angles, appearing as a massive shotgun blast as it came out the side of the first cruiser and killed the second.

Before the rest of the West Africans could figure out what had just happened they came under fire from the Star Force destroyer now arriving at the engagement zone. It laid the hammer down on the remaining cruiser and destroyers with several salvos of missiles along with its twin large lasers and rail gun. The remaining enemy frigates, two of which were returning from the brief battle with the cutter, targeted the station rather than the Star Force ships, intent on taking it out before they themselves were killed.

With the Star Force destroyer now in play, coming up to replace the frigate as missile defense shield, none of the remaining missile salvos got past the pair, with the destroyer’s large supply of intercepts eating up what the lasers on both ships couldn’t handle. The offensive weapons, meanwhile, chewed the attackers apart until only a pair of destroyers remained with both of them beginning to accelerate towards the station in a last ditch ramming effort.

Both Star Force ships immediately responded, using their greater maneuverability to pace the attacking ships and ram them off course, with the frigate having a harder time of it, but both succeeded in pushing the trajectories clear, then disengaging and pulling back far enough to blow them apart at point blank range with their rail guns.

The two Star Force warships took no mercy on the West Africans and tore their ships apart, ensuring that they couldn’t fire one more shell or missile against the station under their protection. Afterwards the damaged Star Force ships swung back around and took up parking orbits next to the station, unable to do anything further with their lack of crews, but remaining in place as guards in case any further West African ships would show up and try to finish the job.

It was an unnecessary gesture, given that more warships were already enroute to provide protection, but one that wasn’t lost on the station’s inhabitants. The outer structure was a mess, with pieces floating everywhere and the rotation of the cylinders off balanced enough that they had to be decelerated down to 1/10th speed to keep the torque from causing further structural damage, but all the South Africans had survived thanks to Kelly and the other Star Force personnel moving them to the center of the station and physically sealing off the outer layers above and beyond just closing the doors.

It would take months to repair all the damage, but repair it they could. In the mean time SR-119 and a small fleet of civilian ships would be evacuating the inhabitants to temporary quarters on nearby Star Force stations while the warfleet went on immediate defensive deployment to lock down all other South African facilities against further assaults…after which orders went out from Archon Command to the battleship Captains to hunt down and destroy/capture every West African warship in orbit.

6

June 17, 2109

“Director,” the German Ambassador greeted as he entered Davis’s office. “Ambassador.”

His Indian counterpart returned his greeting as the man sat down on the opposite end of the desk. “Mr. Ackerman.”

“What can I do for you, gentlemen,” Davis asked, referring to their mutual request for this meeting.

Ackerman spoke first. “We understand that your troops have now seized five of our territories,” the slightly overweight man said, including the Indian Ambassador in his statement. “We would like to know your terms for reacquiring them.”

Davis sat up a bit straighter in his chair. “As you probably know, we reached an agreement with the South Africans that allowed them to retain a portion of their Lunar territories. If you’re willing to end your participation in the war we can discuss similar terms, but the territories you’re referencing are not on the table, the reason being that those colonies have declared their independence and Star Force has already acknowledged that fact. If you wish to pursue reunification you’ll have to take it up with them diplomatically.”

“The only reason they have their independence,” Ackerman stated with a tired anger, “is because you forcefully removed our troops in those territories.”

“You stole them from us,” Rao said, more to the point.

“They made the request,” Davis answered, suppressing a smile. “And the longer the situation dragged on the more their supplies would have diminished, so we chose to take the most expedient course.”

“Do you really mean to take everything from us?” Ackerman accused, his face beginning to turn red.

“Yes,” Davis said bluntly, a bit perturbed about having to have repeat discussions. “If you continue this war we will whittle your assets down until you have nothing left. I’m surprised you haven’t noticed the trend until now.”

What normal color in Ackerman’s face disappeared, but Rao cut him off before he could blow his top.

“I would assume that arguing you have no right to do this would be immaterial at this point, and given that you’ve already laid down client bans on our countries you’re not beholden to our sales to maintain your revenue stream. It would seem that we have very little leverage at present, so state your terms for India’s surrender.”

Davis glanced at Ackerman then turned his chair to directly face Ambassador Rao.

“If immediately occurring, a 40 year ban on services, forfeiture of all but 1 Lunar territory, a permanent ban on any activity in the Mars micro-system, and total disarmament, with all weaponry and warships being turned over to Star Force.”

“Five territories,” Rao bartered.

Davis shook his head. “These terms aren’t negotiable, and the longer this war goes on the harsher they get.”

“You leave us with a token territory to disguise the fact that you’re conquering our territories through diplomacy?”

“If we have to do it militarily we’ll leave you with nothing at all,” Davis warned. “After Luna, we start confiscating orbital stations and your civilian fleet.”

Rao didn’t say anything for a moment, weighing what options his nation had. “How long will the military ban be in effect?”

“Permanently, same as the Chinese, South Africans, and West Africans.”

Rao’s face skewed with the first visible sign of emotion from the man. “You’d force us to become defenseless?”

“As you well know, Star Force protects its clients and everyone else committed to civilized economic ventures, in part by instituting these bans. Those nations that cannot behave themselves will not be allowed weapons, thus decreasing the likelihood of future belligerent actions.”

“Leaving you with full control of the star system!” Ackerman said, pounding a fist on Davis’s desk.

A glance from the Director down at the man’s hand prompted the Ambassador to draw it back slightly. The desk was made of glass, after all, and his facial expression made it clear he wasn’t going to tolerate such inappropriate gestures.

“We do not deny nations the right of self-defense except in cases where the military in question has been misused. Star Force is not, and will not be, the only military power in space…but we are the stronger and will remain so in order to maintain stability. Your countries screwed up and are being penalized for it. Either take it on the chin and move on or see the penalties continue to escalate. We haven’t barred anyone from access to space itself, but that option is still in play, so don’t push your luck.”

Rao sighed, seeing that their hand had been dealt. “May I request one small deviation in your terms?”

“You may always ask…” Davis said, leaving the rest of the unnecessary sentence unfinished.

“We have very few warships left, and our civilian fleet has been hard hit as well. Would it be acceptable if we removed the weapons on our warships and repurposed them for civilian use, to help replace our losses?”

Davis rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I’ll make you a counter offer. Turn your warships over to us. We’ll do the weapons removal and refitting, free of charge, and return them to you for civilian purposes in exchange for India ceding Star Force possession of Bitra.”

Rao’s eyes narrowed. “You want the island?”

“And the surrounding seafloor equidistant to each of the surrounding islands,” Davis said, referring to the location of one of their six spaceports in India. This one, however, was not located on the mainland, but rather on a small island off the west coast which Star Force had built up considerably with material dredged from the sea floor and shipped in from elsewhere.

“Which would deny us the tax revenue, as well as making your spaceport on sovereign soil,” Rao continued, thinking it over.

“You’re not going to be getting much tax revenue from them anyway,” Davis pointed out, referring to the ban on services, “and it would allow me to keep that spaceport open.”

Rao raised his eyebrows. “Our citizens would still have access, yes?”

“Citizens yes, government no. Your people could always travel out of country to access one of our spaceports in, say, Pakistan or Indonesia, but I think you’d find it less of an international incident if they could transit through nearby Star Force property.”

Rao recognized the olive branch for what it was, as well as noting the fact that Star Force appeared to be interested in gaining land here on Earth. Up until now the only property that they truly owned was Atlantis, which they had created in the ocean, with all land-based properties existing within each country’s borders and legal codes.

“Those terms are acceptable to us,” he said formally, “contingent on you coming to equitable terms with the Germans.”

“How so?” Davis asked, frowning. He had wondered why they had asked for a joint meeting.

“We don’t wish to upset the power balance in the ongoing war,” Ackerman answered. “You may view it as a pointless fight, but we do not. If we opted out alone, the United States would be at a significant disadvantage, but with South Africa already having bowed out and India agreeing to do the same, we can make a more honorable withdrawal…though we are only doing so because you’ve forced our hand.”

“Can I therefore assume the other parties are not inclined to end the war at this time?”

“You can,” Rao answered when Ackerman hesitated.

“Are you demanding the same terms from us?” the German Ambassador asked instead.

“Not quite,” Davis admitted. “You will suffer the same ban from Mars, as well as a general military ban. In addition, you will relinquish possession of your captured Lunar territories and cede all but three of your own.”

“Three?” Rao interrupted. “You only allowed us one.”

“That’s because of Hestig,” Davis said matter of factly, referring to a particularly nasty attack made by the Indians against a German colony back during the early stages of the ground war. The Germans had held out long enough to get ‘aerial’ reinforcements from the Americans, but they lost a third of the civilian population in the city when the Indians had shelled the complex instead of trying to infiltrate and capture it. Massive atmospheric breaches opened up, killing those inside via either explosive decompression or asphyxia.

From a purely tactical perspective, pressure suited forces could disable the colony’s internal defenders in this way, then patch up the hull breaches and repressurized the areas later. This meant no casualties for the attackers, but at the cost of wholesale slaughter. After the Indian attackers had been driven off by the American aircraft the survivors had returned to the dropships that had delivered the army into assault range.

Those dropships were hit 5 days later by Star Force, along with the military base that housed them. Every person on the base was captured and transported off of Luna, after which Star Force’s warships in orbit used the base for target practice, giving them their first live fire orbital assault experience to date, as well as sending a clear message to all the warring nations that targeting civilian populations would draw their immediate wrath.

Rao remained speechless for a moment, then swallowed hard. “I don’t recall you holding the Japanese so accountable for their nuking the American shipyards,” he said, feeling a bit uneasy at criticizing their allies but feeling that the question needed to be broached if India was going to suffer additional penalties for their wartime actions.

“Their time is coming,” Davis promised.

“I would hope so,” Ackerman huffed. “You haven’t mentioned the length of our ban?”

“It would be 35,” Davis explained, “except for the mitigating fact that, as you pointed out earlier, Germany only entered the war in response to the Japanese attacks. While that does not wholly excuse your actions, it does warrant consideration. Germany’s ban will be 20 years in length.”

 “What of our belt mining zones?”

“Those are Star Force operated zones, and as such your ban of services includes them.”

“Will we regain access once the ban is lifted?”

“I can’t make any promises. It depends on what’s available at the time as we expand our operations there.”

“And your Mercury operations, whenever you get around to starting them?”

“The same.”

“Are there any restrictions on trade with other parties?”

“You can’t use them as middlemen to acquire our goods,” Davis reminded him, “but if that does occur the penalty will be imposed on them, not you, which is why I’m sure they won’t offer you that option.”

“Is there a statute of limitations regarding the selling of older model Star Force ships in their possession?”

“The numbers of years we quoted the Chinese was 30, and I believe we’ll be making that our standard benchmark. Any ships with sell dates of 30 years or more will no longer fall under the middleman clause, and we’ll hold that mark to the day.”

“And the future division of Jupiter’s moons?”

“All territorial divisions will follow the same format. Those nations suffering a ban will not be included at the time the ban is in place, but they may take part after it is lifted if they’ve met all the necessary prerequisites.”

“Are you offering the others similar terms?”

“Theirs will be more extreme, but yes.”

Ackerman nodded, seeing that Germany would have an advantage over the other nations for several years once their ban was lifted. “I’ll have to clear this back home first, but unofficially we agree to terms. Withdrawal of our troops in present combat zones will be difficult, however, without assistance.”

“Star Force will extract your people where needed,” Davis noted, realizing that while the Germans and Indians were willing to quit the fighting, those they were fighting against weren’t, meaning some current battles were going to require Star Force militarily imposing itself to cover the withdrawal.

Ackerman stood and straightened his tie. “The sooner you put the terms in writing, the sooner I can send it off for approval.”

“Within the hour,” Davis promised.

Rao stood as well. “On behalf of India, I can say that we’re glad to put our participation in this war to an end and hope to rekindle our previous relationship with Star Force in due time.”

“Talk is cheap,” Davis offered. “If you want to make amends, do so with actions.”

Rao nodded into a short bow, accepting the wisdom in that statement. “Director,” he said, taking his leave. Ackerman left as well, but without any parting words.

“Progress,” Davis announced to the empty room after they had left.

7

June 29, 2109

Amy Garrison pressed the ‘aye’ button on the desk-like console before her, registering her vote in the Armstrong Senate and waiting to see the final tally on the display screen rising high above the central podium in the semi-circular chamber, located in the State capitol city/colony of Horizon. As she watched, the other Senators did not take long to add their votes to hers, resulting in a full vote being completed within just two minutes…far faster than the normal process, but then again these were hardly normal times.

The Star Force blockade had been strangling the American Lunar State in the way of supplies, as well as barring transit for its citizenry to or from the moon. Their neighbors had likewise cut off contact with the 24 American territorial zones that comprised Armstrong, not allowing the normal economic and civilian traffic across national lines else they risk coming under effect of the blockade as well, which was currently only targeted to the warring factions, which had now been whittled down to the US, UK, and Japan.

The blockade had been lifted on the Germans, who had owned two bordering zones with the Americans, and it had been an appalling site watching the stream of dropships coming down from orbit to rejuvenate their ailing colonies while Armstrong continued to suffer. Rationing had become increasingly strict, with growing tensions amongst the populace. Scattered riots had begun breaking out and the overwhelming public sentiment to do something was continuing to grow to dangerous levels.

Armstrong’s Governor had been in constant communication with Washington D.C. and the State’s representatives there, as well as the President, but no resolution was forthcoming. Typical political stalling was the only response, carried on now for months with no hope of action being taken in the near future. The ground war had come to a halt, with 34 captured enemy territories taken from the British, Japanese, South Africans, and Indians now in the American tally, which was why, Garrison believed, that Washington was reluctant to end the war, knowing that Star Force wouldn’t allow them to keep the territories gained.

Meanwhile the reverse was true in orbit. What few stations the Americans had captured were dwarfed by the those now held by the British and Japanese fleets. Nearly the entire State of Nimbus was in British hands, and with the American fleet having been reduced to less than a tenth of the ships it had started out the war with there was little hope of recovering what they had lost. The US Navy was now preoccupied with holding onto what assets remained while the enemy continued to pick and choose at will what they wanted to take next, the only drawback being sufficient troop transports to seize said facilities in the breaching efforts.

Fortunately Star Force’s threats had made both nations disinclined to simply destroy the American stations, and there had not been a repeat of the initial Japanese nuking of the shipyards. Multiple ongoing ‘ground’ wars were taking place inside various stations, giving two fronts to the ongoing war…the orbital front, and the Lunar front, both of which were hammering the civilians caught in the fighting. The Americans caught on the orbital stations were suffering from a British/Japanese blockade, same as Armstrong was, with neither getting the supplies they needed to survive.

Garrison and the rest of her fellow State Senators, representing a total of 27 distinct colonies at present, with several more partially constructed ones having been put on hold by the outbreak of the war, had been driven to the conclusion that the only way they were going to survive was to do like several other nations’ colonies had done…to cut ties with their home nations in order to escape the blockade, with the vote before them being the matter of secession.

When the final vote was tallied it was 52-2 in favor, but no rounds of applause broke out, nor any cheers or jeers. The entire chamber was solemn, partially due to the beginning stages of malnutrition, but more as a reflection of the dire situation that had forced this decision upon them.

As of this moment, Armstrong was legally an independent nation, under blockade, with a foreign army housed within its borders.

Not an ideal situation, and Garrison hoped that they wouldn’t have a fight of their own on their hands when the military was informed of the vote, given that they still took their orders from Washington, aside from the small National Guard unit that Armstrong supported. The plan was to request that Star Force remove the federal troops, as they had done for others, which Governor Harrison was now officially authorized to negotiate the terms of.

The Governor was also present in the chamber, though having no voting power in the process. He did possess the authority to veto the measure, but that wasn’t going to occur. Not only was he a supporter of the course of action, but a 52-2 vote was more than enough to override his veto if need be.

  As soon as the last few bits of legal ceremony were attended to the Senate broke up and Garrison caught Harrison by the elbow on his way out of the chamber, looking up at the taller man who had once been a political rival, but was now a fellow rebel in their quest for material and political survival.

“Make good on this,” she urged. “We have a very narrow window.”

“I intend to,” he answered, his tone one of significance.

She nodded her support then released his arm and patted his shoulder twice before letting him walk out of the chamber and head back to his Administrative levels within the capitol building where he would contact Star Force for the first time as head of an independent nation and seek to end the blockade that was slowly killing Armstrong.

Two weeks later Amy stood in her quarters, looking out the window of her tower apartment across the Horizon cityscape to the landing pads as another Star Force dropship departed, carrying some of the last American troops off Luna. Fortunately they had gone without a fight, on the orders of the President no less. It was funny how little he cared about Armstrong until the State seceded and the public opinion polls suddenly shifted against him. The fervor of the space war had suddenly ended for the American people back on Earth when they realized that they’d just lost a star off their flag, two Senators and a Representative from congress, a tidy sum of tax revenue, and their favorite Lunar vacation resorts.

All of the American Lunar territories had been governed under the State’s mantle, meaning that when it seceded it left the Americans without a foothold on the moon for the first time in decades. In response to that political debacle, and expanded upon by sudden insights as to the plight of the colonists under the iron grip of the Star Force blockade, it had been deemed expedient for the President to go so far as to end their participation in the war, with him personally traveling to Atlantis to arrange for terms.

Technically that meant the war was now over, though how it would all shake out Amy didn’t know because they didn’t actually surrender to the people they were fighting. The UK and Japan were still at war, though with the Americans backing out they were now under Star Force’s protection, and she didn’t think they’d cross them to the point the West Africans foolishly had.

As she watched out the window, arms crossed over her chest against the chill of the air in her nightgown, another dropship was on approach to one of several pads…this one a Canadian vessel, bringing in yet more relief supplies that Star Force wasn’t willing to supply. They’d held Armstrong responsible for part of the war and had slapped a 5 year ban on them, which was small in comparison to the 50 year ban they imposed on the home States. They hadn’t handed down the permanent military ban though, and Armstrong had been allowed to keep its National Guard forces, though it was restricted from producing or procuring warships until the 5 year ban had ended, which wasn’t an issue for them, given the fact that they didn’t have any.

The Canadians had immediately stepped forward and offered their assistance, first with relief supplies and then an offer of a trade agreement. That was still floating around the Senate, but they should have the final details ironed out within a few weeks, she hoped, because Armstrong wasn’t exactly self-sufficient and had been relying on imports for a decent percentage of its economy.

They were better off, however, than most of the other recently seceded colonies now sprinkled across Luna, as well as the largest. That size, Amy hoped, would sustain them long enough to get through the Star Force ban. If they could last those five years then the Star Force Lunar markets would open up to them and they’d have the option of buying everything they couldn’t produce at decent cost. Until then they were going to have to make do with Canadian trade, along with a few startup ventures to try and add some more diversity to the limited industry they possessed, namely foodstuffs, with the recent blockade pointing out their deficiency in that economic category.

She knew Harrison was also trying to work out a deal with the Australians and a few others, but nothing had come of it yet. After only two weeks of independence she knew not to expect too much too soon, but to her altered sense of time nothing was happening fast enough. She felt a sense of relief each time a Canadian dropship arrived, knowing how badly those relief supplies were needed. Most of the city/colonies had been able to loosen their rationing, but they still had no stockpiles to draw from, so they had to be very careful to make use of what they were being given…something that most Armstrongians understood intimately. They’d learned the hard way how important logistics were and didn’t intend to be caught off guard again.

Amy looked down at her hands, noticing how the flesh around her tendons had begun to fill in again, but she hadn’t completely shaken off the skeletal look. Her strength had been returning though, and with it the headaches had begun to go away. She didn’t want to think about what would have happened if they’d waited another week…or two. The looks of her fellow colonists haunted her the most from those last days before the first Star Force dropship had arrived to start removing the soldiers and ‘accidentally’ left a stack of crates behind, filled with foodstuffs.

Two days later the first of the Canadian dropships arrived and began the regular supply runs, marking the end to their part of the blockade, though it was apparently still in place for the Brits and Japs. She didn’t want to think about their colonists either, but she couldn’t help herself. How much worse off were they? How much longer could she have lasted if help hadn’t arrived?

Part of her wanted to curse Star Force for the blockade, but another part blamed the home countries for abandoning their Lunar colonies. They knew what Star Force was going to do after Mars, yet they still dragged their feet until Star Force left them no other choice but to surrender…and not for their wellbeing, but for their own political necessity.

Maybe cutting off ties with Earth was a good thing, above and beyond mere survival. A fresh start, perhaps, where they could avoid repeating the mistakes of the past. She hoped for as much, but feared for the worst. As a State they were new and under-populated, and that didn’t bode well for their future as an independent nation. They had to grow, and grow fast in order to survive. Half a million people was the size of a subsection of a major city back on Earth, but up here they had to supply the entire workforce, government, police, scientists, doctors, etc…not to mention birthing the next generation.

Armstrong had a great many challenges ahead of it, and as the Governor liked to point out, had a great many opportunities on the other side of those challenges if they could get through them. She knew he was right, but the critic in her kept imagining ways that it would all fall apart before they even got half that far…and what was worse, was she was probably the one that was going to be right.

She’d do her best to make independence work, but the politic had shifted so drastically that no one could truly predict how future events were going to play out, and that uncertainty was palpable throughout Horizon, as well as over on Dawn, her representative city/colony.

Amy turned around at the sound of her apartment door opening, but stayed at the window in her living room, waiting for her husband to walk in.

“Long day?” she asked, noting that he was two hours later than she’d expected.

“Very,” he said, walking up from behind and wrapping his arms around her tightly as they both looked out the window. He lifted one arm off her midsection and pointed at the landing Canadian dropship. “They’re keeping us busy at the docks.”

“Thankfully,” she added.

“We’re winning this one,” he said confidently, kissing her on the cheek. “I’m going to catch a shower.”

“Hurry,” she prompted.

“Won’t take long,” he promised, heading off into another room.

Amy let out a long breath, beginning to feel a little bit better. Her husband’s positivity always made her feel more at ease. She wished she could keep him around her throughout the day.

Her eyes fell back on the landing pads and watched as the boxy dropship set down on its spider-like landing legs.

“We are winning,” she agreed. “But we’ve got a long way to go before we’ve won this one.”

While Armstrong was beginning to recover and make the transition to independence on Luna’s surface, Star Force was busy in orbit, picking off British and Japanese cargo ships one and two at a time, increasing the pressure on the two nations who still refused to surrender, pressing their internal wars on captured or contested facilities while digging their heels in on captured territory. Their navies, no longer having to contend with what was left of the American fleet, began redeploying to new positions while supply ships moved in with additional troops and supplies, but not to contest the Lunar blockade, leaving their remaining colonies to their own fates.

Unwilling to let them dictate the course of events, Star Force began gearing up for a final confrontation. Either they’d bait the two nations into fighting them directly, which would be suicide on their part, or they’d slowly cripple their supply lines and force them into submission.

8

July 8, 2109

With the supply shortage worsening for the British and Japanese colonies on Luna that hadn’t been able to declare independence, locked down as they were under the presence of both nations’ militaries, Star Force finally decided to put an end to the stalemate and launched a lightning fast strike against all locations simultaneous. More than half were taken off guard as dropship after dropship arrived in the wake of Archon saboteur teams that snuck into position and disabled aerial defenses.

With Star Force troops pouring into the colonies while bypassing the few separate military bases that remained, the malnourished troops on station surrendered in droves, either unable to put up a decent fight or simply unwilling to do so. With the defenders neutralized, dropships of relief supplies were brought down and the captured colonies, now deemed Star Force property, were more than grateful. Even the military bases eventually caved to the inevitability of the situation, surrendering without a fight over the next few days, save for two Japanese holdouts that required some prodding, but even when those bases were hit the resistance disappeared quickly, as if all they required was an excuse to surrender.

With the last of the enemy troops on Luna secured the blockade was officially ended…with the ships that had been holding position in orbit of the moon redeployed to assist in the ongoing confiscation of the British and Japanese supply fleets, with Star Force picking up two or three ships a day on average.

Both nations were able to assess the situation and could see that they were running out of time. When the first of their orbital refueling stations was confiscated by Star Force they mutually decided it was time to surrender in order to retain what remained of their infrastructure, agreeing on a date while leaving themselves a few days to tidy up loose ends.

“Move along…keep moving people!” a British soldier yelled over the din of the crowd at one of the hundreds of docking ports along the frame of Habitat Block 16 that held dozens of British cargo ships, as well as a few warships pressed into service as personnel transports to assist with the mass evacuation of the American prisoners. “Stay in line and keep moving forward.”

Ryan Branson, a retired physical scientist, was one of the captured colonists in line, drifting forward with a small backpack of personal items and two hands full of grandchildren. His eight year old grandson on his right and his six year old granddaughter on the left. Both were shaking with nerves, and even Ryan had to admit to a level of apprehension. The British hadn’t told them where they were going, just that they had to evacuate the station. He hoped they were being returned to American soil, but it could just as easily be a transfer to a prison camp somewhere in orbit. All he knew is they had to stick together and try to survive, and right now that meant staying in line and boarding the ship ahead.

They’d been in line for more than three hours, but his grandchildren had been troopers and hadn’t complained so much as once. They kept quiet and by his side, as he’d asked. He knew they had to be tired from standing so long, but fortunately the last hour had been in the zero g docking ring, allowing them to float in place as they scooted along via wall railings. As it was, his grandson was propelling them all along with his tiny grip on the rail, and doing a good job of it too.

“Hold up!” the soldier said, raising a hand for emphasis as the lines stopped…with people drifting into each other until they got their momentum checked.

Ryan bumped into a large man in front of him when he stopped all too quickly.

“Pardon me,” he muttered, pulling his granddaughter back up against his side.

Up ahead of them the airlock door closed and the docked ship began to detach.

“They’re full,” the Brit announced. “Stay put until the next one arrives.”

“We were so close,” his grandson complained.

Ryan smiled. “Just means we’ll have our choice of seats on the next one.”

 Fortunately they didn’t have to wait long, and within six minutes they were moving again. About twenty people up the line and they arrived at the airlock where the Brit was overseeing the loading, taking a head count on a small datapad.

“Single file,” he ordered as the threesome got to the head of the line.

“Hold on,” Ryan told his grandson, “and go in front of me. Ellie, same thing, but go behind me,” he said, twisting his torso so his hands reached out in front and behind him. With his foot Ryan pushed off the lip of the airlock and propelled them all through the narrow corridor and into the umbilical. They floated through, bumping off the walls as his grandchildren were unnecessarily twisting about, but a firm hand landed on his shoulder on the far side, checking his momentum.

“To the left,” another British officer said, pushing Ryan that direction.

His grandson reached out and grabbed another railing, pulling them along in line as Ryan pushed off against the floor to help him steady their movement. They rejoined the back of the line as they were herded through several corridors until they came to a gravity transfer zone, floating up into a moving round room with two doors spinning around slowly.

“Ok, you know what to do, right?” he asked his grandchildren. “We have to catch the door. Feet first.”

Grabbing a long ladder/railing, Ryan released his grandson but held onto his granddaughter as he felt the first tiny pull of the centrifugal force as the railing ever so slowly pulled him sideways. He twisted around, putting his feet on the rungs and allowed himself to drift ‘downward’ towards the door, seeing his grandson already several rungs ahead of him. By the time they got down through the door to the floor there was barely a fraction of a g of artificial gravity, but it was enough to right themselves and allow them to walk very tenderly over to a nearby stairwell that the line of people was following.

As they went down the stairs the gravity began to increase again, coming up to full strength when they hit the very bottom and were led to a large bank of passenger seats on what Ryan guessed was a commercial transport, raising his hopes that they were being returned to Earth or at least maybe to Star Force. He and his two family members were led to their seats and settled in.

“I have to pee,” his grandson said after a few minutes.

“Me too,” his sister echoed.

“I think they’ll let us go after everyone gets seated,” Ryan said, hoping that was true. His bladder was full as well. “Just hold on a little bit longer, ok?”

“I’ll try,” his grandson said, making a strange face.

Thanks to the British insistence to keep the lines moving this bank of seats, probably more than 1000 strong, filled quickly, after which they were allowed to move around a bit, hit the restrooms and the nearby lounges, but they weren’t allowed to transfer between sections, which were kept locked down by a scattering of British troops. After another long wait they got the disembarkment warning, instructing them all to return to their seats before the ship disconnected from the station and began to move off.

About half an hour into their trip the video screens shifted from entertainment channels over to an exterior view from the ship’s cameras pointing back towards Habitat Block 16, which snapped into a zoom enlargement as the Captain’s voice came over the intercom.

“I know this is a bad moment, but I figured you’d want to see what was happening,” he said apologetically. “So you know, we evacuated everyone off the stations.”

Ryan’s jaw dropped as he saw one of the stations inside the cube grid explode like a snowball smashing against a wall. Debris went everywhere, crashing into nearby stations as well as snapping the connective strips in that section of the cube. He recognized that particular station as module 54, which held an amusement park that he had often taken his grandchildren to.

Suddenly another station detonated, then another a minute later. In succession each of the 125 stations held together within the cubical grid were hit by nuclear missiles being fired by the surrounding British warfleet in a slash and burn campaign being undertaken across Earth orbit. Every captured enemy facility that the British and Japanese possessed was being mass evacuated then nuked, denying Star Force the opportunity to confiscate or return what had once been West African, German, or American property.

Within the day, all 21 Habitat Blocks that made up Nimbus were obliterated in the largest nuclear maelstrom in recorded history, utterly destroying the 54th American state.

The British may have had to surrender to Star Force, but they were going to take one of the stars off the American flag before they did so…and that was one victory that Davis and his people couldn’t steal from them.

When Paul got the reports of what the British and Japanese were doing back in the Fleet Command center on Venus he punched the console he was reading the report on, denting the synthetic trim and turning a few curious heads before he read down far enough to see the addendum noting the evacuation ships leaving prior to the nuking.

The tightness in his chest abated somewhat when he read that, but his anger was still present. Even assuming they’d gotten everyone off those installations the debris field was going to expand out into the traffic lanes, endangering both starships and stations until they could get it all cleaned up. Adding to that was the fact that at least some of the debris was going to be radioactive, meaning Star Force had a giant mess on its hands. The Nimbus debris would be the worst of it, given the mass of those constructs, but there were hundreds of other captured stations tagged around the planet that had been destroyed in the British/Japanese purge of their war spoils.

Paul loosely figured it would take 5 years at best to get it all collected, and over that amount of time it was going to spread far and wide and could be responsible for deaths long after this war came to an end…which was going to happen right now.

Liam was still in the Mars micro-system, overseeing their fleet there, but Roger had transitioned back over to command of Earth’s orbital fleet along with the excess of warships no longer necessary in the belt or at Mars. The Draco had remained in the belt, being too massive to easily maneuver around the playing board, so Roger had transferred over to the Orion when the Lunar blockade had begun.

Pulling up a message prompt on the console, Paul tagged the command ship as the intended target and routed the message to Roger’s personal account, then began typing loudly as his emotions bled over into the force he landed in his keystrokes.

I just read the report. Try to confirm any casualties if you can. I don’t trust them to have gotten everyone off and we need to know who to lynch when it comes to it. I assume you’re already gearing up to hit them hard, so let me know if I need to transfer any more ships your way.

As you’re depriving them of their ships, start taking away their stations too. Leave them with nothing in orbit. We have to send these bastards a message.

Oh, and shuffle the evacuees you retrieve through the Nexus stations we have operational. I’ll arrange the rest.

After that he sent messages to Greg and Davis, offering his input on the penalties the UK and Japan would be incurring, suggesting that they be kicked dirtside for at least the amount of time it took Star Force to clean up the mess they’d made in orbit.

9

August 2, 2109

A British cruiser fired its braking thrusters as it slowly arrived at the orbital holding point where Star Force was collecting the surrendering warships, under the escort of the blocky remote controlled corvette pacing it a few kilometers off. Already stationed at the point were thirteen other British warships, surrounded by a halo of Star Force warships centered on the large battleship controlling them all. Alongside the Balboa were several cargo ships waiting to take on the surrendering British crews and return them to Earth in shame.

All across Earth orbit Star Force had holding points established where the surrendering British and Japanese ships were ordered to rendezvous at…and where the holdouts were being forced to move towards. Initially after the surrenders were offered everything had begun transitioning smoothly, until the two countries realized that Star Force was still seizing control of their infrastructure even after they’d surrendered. That caused a political ruckus and prompted sections of the surrendering fleets to renege on the arrangement and try to take up defensive positions around their key facilities.

A few battles had been fought, but Star Force had brought so many warships to bear that it was little more than a token show of resistance. Some ships had to be forcibly boarded and a few of the stations didn’t want to relinquish either, but given the military might opposing them most knuckled under eventually, leaving the collection of ships and relocation of the crews being the last remaining tasks before Star Force wrapped up World War III.

When the arriving British cruiser finally decelerated and moved into a parking orbit alongside its sister ships, a Cougar maneuvered up against it and connected their docking ports via a flexible umbilical that could tolerate a significant amount of sheering if the momentum between the massive metal hulks hadn’t been completely negated. Through it spilled the boarding team, led by an Archon to insure there was no issue with who was going to be in possession of the ship.

With the red-armored warrior standing guard over the transfer the British crew left the ship and a Star Force replacement team came aboard for inventory and assessment, followed by a short trip through orbit to either a shipyard with an open slip or one of several storage zones where they had been tethering the mass of captured ships to kilometer-long metallic girders arrayed in a grid pattern to keep the closely packed ships from drifting into one another. There the ships would stay until shipyard access was available, whereupon any repairs or rebuilding would be attended to, after which the ships would be put into service or sold, with a few badly damaged ones being outright scrapped and the materials recycled.

The cruiser in question was one of the larger ships captured and was flown out within the day towards one of Star Force’s shipyards, getting top priority for refit. Over the next two months all the weaponry would be stripped out and the interior areas reconfigured into small cargo bays. Its computer systems were upgraded, various navigation devices replaced or augmented, and the furnishings totally reworked. In the end it would come out of the slip looking almost the same as it had gone in from the outside, minus the external weaponry, but on the inside it looked and felt like a completely different vessel.

With it being one of the larger captured ships allocated for sale, it had a buyer before the refits were even complete and ended up in the possession of Argentina and was put to work hauling small scale goods from Earth starports to Lunar ones, helping to grow Argentinean influence in the region by filling the economic gap left by the abrupt exit of the British, Japanese, and Americans. The newly minted free nations required a great many supplies being shipped in from Earth, and with the short term Star Force bans in place on them it gave other enterprising corporations and nations an opportunity to exploit.

Argentina was not alone in this philosophy as many other nations rushed to fill the economic void, and with the captured warships and cargo ships that Star Force was selling on the cheap, many of the nations were able to double or triple the size of their cargo fleets, getting 10-20 repurposed ships for the price of one brand new Star Force model…though the quality of the used ships was considerably lacking, most of which had been built by other manufacturers, but the orbital hopping seemed almost inconsequential nowadays, and those nations interested in working within the Earth micro-system were content to use the older, weaker models, though they did rush to snatch up the repurposed Star Force designed cargo ships as they came up for sale, with all of them being purchased within the first hour of going on the market.

Australia in particular picked up the majority of the Star Force models seized from the warring factions. Though many of them were 20+ years old, that was of little concern given the high quality of the craftsmanship. The newer models might have been faster, with stronger hulls and more efficient engines, but the older ones were still solid, and at the reduced prices available made them quite attractive to the nations with a bit more capital on hand to spend.

The Australians were able to pick up a fleet of 32 such cargo ships, increasing their numbers by 13% over the next two years. With the extra ships, reduced American shipping presence, and the lack of any British or Japanese presence in the market, they quickly elevated themselves into the top economic notch, pulling slightly ahead of the resurgent Russians who collected an even larger number of the non-Star Force repurposed models and had them shipped out to the asteroid belt to expand their mining operations there tenfold into the newly opened up regions that the warring factions had been forced to vacate, along with new fields that Star Force was continually opening up.

That would be the dynamic for the next decade…the Russians expanding their natural resource holdings while the Australians focused on the markets and shipping. The currency obtained by the economic activity allowed the Aussies to further expand the infrastructure in their territorial zones through additional Star Force purchases while the Russians used their growing natural resources to build their own, with both nations exiting World War III as the true victors, as far as spoils were measured.

The Brazilians followed up the pair by using whatever capital they could scrounge up to purchase territorial zones on Mars that Star Force put up for sale. Being extremely expensive, most nations were able to purchase one at most, but the Brazilians managed to acquire 14 of them. Realizing that this wouldn’t help them in the short term, whereas repurposed starships could be put into service immediately, the Brazilians decided on a more long term strategy, willing to acquire and sit on the territories for many years, if not decades, until they had the resources available to exploit them.

They knew well that given enough time they could turn the territorial advantage to their economic gain, given that the number of territories on Mars wasn’t expanding, and once the overall population of the planet increased they’d be in a position of dominance there. Within the following years the Brazilians would also acquire three more territories through trading with other nations that either didn’t have the finances required to exploit them or were just not that interested in expanding to the red planet.

In the end, the Brazilians would end up with more territory on Mars than any other nation, second only to Star Force, and it was there that they would carve out their foothold in the Solar System. They participated in every territorial expansion from that day forward, but seemed only interested in collecting resources from the outer planets to barter with in exchange for more territories on Mars. Within 30 years the Brazilian population tipped the scale between the two planets, with the majority slipping away from Earth, after which they moved their national capitol off of the homeworld, making Brazil the first true interplanetary nation.

Several other nations also benefited greatly in the aftermath of the war, each in their own way as multiple tracks to wealth and prosperity offered themselves to those entrepreneurial enough to pursue them. The 7 nations that had taken part in the war were not among them, however, and suffered greatly from the toll the fighting had taken on their infrastructure and fleets…not to mention the repercussions of the penalties inflicted upon them.

Like the Chinese before them, the West Africans had received a permanent ban from Star Force, including a military restriction, but by forcing Star Force to come after them they had unwittingly cut their own throats because in the process of capturing their warships Star Force had also scooped up every civilian ship running supplies to them.

This cut their available cargo fleet by a third, and with the British and Japanese having seized most of their orbital stations…and then destroying them…it left the West Africans with an incomplete infrastructure in Earth orbit. They would eventually fill in the gaps, but without access to Star Force purchases or building contracts, it would take them decades to recover to pre-war levels around Earth, which was where their economic activities would center. With no presence on Mars and no ability to be eligible for Star Force territorial allotments thanks to the permanent ban, they, like the Chinese, would be mostly confined to Earth’s micro-system while the other nations continued to spread outward, leaving the West Africans behind in the ever increasing colonization race.

The South Africans fared better at Earth, given that they had been on the ‘winning’ naval side and had retained more of their fleet and stations, but they too were left behind until their temporary ban on Star Force services expired, after which they were able to reassert themselves on the outer planets once they were back in the territorial allotments. This allowed them to create a niche economy, but their participation in the war had essentially robbed them of any inner planet holdings, save for Earth.

The Indians, having a larger economy to work with, weathered their ban better, growing the number of habitats in Earth orbit in the interim, then pursuing that course of action even further following the French model. They traded what outer planet holdings they would gain for more Earth-based assets to house their expanding population, with Star Force building for them the largest Earth orbiting stations to date, each capable of comfortably housing 1 million people. Over time, Indian would acquire a string of these stations in orbital zone 7, eventually stretching the entire way around the planet, with that habitat ‘necklace’ thickening with each decade that passed.

The Germans, who had the shortest ban of the 7 nations, fought back aggressively to replenish their losses, initially linking up with the Corporate Alliance to establish a foothold in the asteroid belt, then using Star Force’s resources to acquire a piece of Mercury and heavily invest in the mining subsection of the Solar System’s economy. They would make that industry the linchpin in their slow return to prominence, feeding many of the other nations the raw materials they required as Earth’s populations exploded outward, growing in record numbers that saw the Human population double within a century.

Later on, once technology had progressed to more equitable levels, the Germans would expand into shipbuilding, though they were never able to match Star Force’s engineers…nor was anyone else, but there was so much business available that Star Force couldn’t possibly supply the demand for more starships by themselves, so there was ample opportunity for the Germans and others to find their economic niche there.

The Americans would recover, as they always did, and expand outward in a buffet-like approach to colonization, with multiple ongoing projects and their economic fingers everywhere. They would not, however, reassume a position of dominance, having been relegated to a second tier space power in the half century that they were forced to live out the Star Force ban. Their territorial holdings were minimal, given the allotments they missed out on, but their foothold in the Solar System was still significant.

A later alliance with the Germans would spur a renaissance of sorts, but they were never able to reach higher than a powerscore of 5th, though that was still a significant achievement given how diverse and strong the competitive field had become.

The British, however, would not recover. Their destruction of the Nimbus habitats along with dozens of other stations had created so much debris that they would be banned from any sort of space activity for an agonizingly long 8 years, on top of which Davis slapped them with a 100 year ban on services. That economic death sentence relegated them to a minor power, buried outside the top 50 on the powerscores and left so far behind the others that while they were able to grow their holdings and prosper on an individual national level, they were never able to catch up with the competition and lost their political standing.

The fate for Japan should have been worse, but the business savvy nation turned their misfortune around better than the Brits did. Davis laid down a 200 year ban along with the clean-up penalty that likewise saw them with no space activity for an 8 year period, after which they had to rebuild their space infrastructure from scratch. The extra 100 years had been added with Davis citing the deaths of the shipyard workers they had nuked as being ‘completely uncivilized behavior.’ As such, they were going to have to pursue their spacebound economy without Star Force’s assets.

Japan responded to the challenge with patience and persistence, taking the penalty in stride and using the Corporate Alliance and others to supply them with material to begin rebuilding. Instead of relying on outside services as a rule, Japan sought to build up its self-sufficiency, learning and recruiting highly skilled individuals from the outside to teach them the finer aspects of the technology others were buying in order that one day down the road Japan would be able to build it for itself.

That goal would be achieved many decades down the road, but again, the pace of growth of the other nations outstripped Japan’s success, and they too, like the British, would never return to a place of dominance, though Japan would come to be regarded as a valuable business partner with several of the other smaller nations, building up its rep amongst the ‘3rd tier’ league, so to speak. In this way they regained a measure of respect, but their actions in World War III had set their fate in the colonization race that would reshuffle Earth’s political structure, leaving once dominant nations broken, and formerly broken nations dominant…and everything else in between.

Not only did the war spur the reshuffling of power, it also created many more players in the game with the large number of colonies declaring independence. Many of them wouldn’t survive on their own and would be voluntarily absorbed into a Star Force run federation, preserving their separation from Earth while alleviating the burden of attaining self-sufficiency given their small size and population.

Others would prosper, however, and grow to have a larger space foothold than most of the nations originating on Earth. All together, the war had kicked into higher gear an era of great opportunity that saw many changes to the social and political structures founded on Earth as they migrated into space, with Star Force becoming the preeminent and undisputable guiding power that ushered Humanity forward with a light, but firm grasp, bringing with it great power and wealth as it quietly led the nations down the path it wished, in preparation for the challenges ahead that no one yet knew they were about to face.

10

May 26, 2110

Davis clicked on the wall screens behind him in the amphitheatre with a flick of a handheld selection wand, bringing up a map of Earth with population density statistics for the assembled national ambassadors to see.

“As many of you well know, overpopulation on Earth is beginning to approach critical levels. We estimate that within four years food production on the planet will become insufficient to the point where we’ll have to start importing foodstuffs from off planet. India has already begun heavy rationing of their food supply and other countries are doing the same in a more moderated manner. Many of you are closing your borders to immigration to be able to sustain your own populations. To combat this problem before it consumes the planet, I give you project Exodus.”

Davis activated a secondary wall screen with more statistics and a theoretical version of the main map accelerated down the timeline with the bright red overpopulated regions of Earth dimming to orange and yellows.

“Mass colonization will relieve the population stress on Earth, and Star Force already has the groundwork in place to begin growing new, independent colonies on our own Lunar and Martian territories. The habitats are already being constructed and the first stages of relocation have begun on an experimental basis, to stress test our acclimatization and teaching programs. We’re not simply going to pick people up off of Earth and dump them on Mars, but rather we’re going to train them for the challenges they’ll face there and on Luna, and once we’re satisfied with their scores they’ll be settled accordingly.”

“This program is voluntary, but given the overpopulation problems your nations are facing I have no doubt you will have plenty of volunteers. We can and will run this program through civilian angles if we must, but your cooperation in the facilitation of the mass exodus would greatly expedite the process by clearing away some of the legal hurdles the potential colonists will face.”

“We currently estimate that we will be able to handle a comfortable million plus when we go public with the program six months from now, with an additional million every year, given current orbital facilities that are continuing to grow. I do not have a current breakdown on which countries we will allow how many slots…that will be determined later along with your level of cooperation.”

“Let me make one point clear, these citizens, once transferred to us, will no longer be counted as part of your nations’ population. They will become Star Force wards during their transition, then citizens of the new colonies we are founding. The colonies will not be segregated according to previous nationality or language. Common culture will be learned during the transition period sufficient for them to coexist on a moderate level, with true unity probable only with successive generations.”

“Star Force is not charging anything for this service. We are doing this to avert a humanitarian disaster of epic proportions. I do not hold to the population control measures that some of you have implemented, but I understand the crisis that has prompted them. Project Exodus will give you a civilized alternative to stabilize your population levels.”

“Coupled with this, we are also implementing Project Harvest, a massive expansion of Star Force’s foodstuff production facilities geared toward supplying Earth with sufficient levels to be able to rescind the current rationing, as well as for supplying what is needed for these new colonies as they grow and expand exponentially. Concurrently, we will work with any of you that wishes to begin retooling your own nation’s foodstuff production, much of which is still primitive and weather sensitive. We will help you devise a more productive approach, as well as make certain products available to assist in this, namely being a condensed version of a hydroponic factory that we’ve been streamlining for domestic use.”

“For those nations with vast tracks of inhospitable land, we’re willing to contribute half the payment for these hydroponic facilities on the condition that the produce be put on the worldwide market rather than reserved for your own nation. Key areas I’m thinking about are the deserts and tundras.”

“A small subsection of Project Harvest will be Star Force’s creation of oceanic production facilities located in the shallows along your nations’ coastlines. Similar to Atlantis, these facilities will be Star Force owned and run, but will sell exclusively to your individual markets, assuming you permit us access to those coastal areas. This will put a supply center on your home soil without consuming your precious land space, which has already become clogged with overpopulation in many cases.”

“Likewise, many of you have inquired as to Star Force’s underwater building experience in order to expand your own coastal cities beneath the oceans and seas on your borders. I will tell you that it is not an easy thing to do, nor are we comfortable with just giving you the specs and leaving you to flounder in ignorance. But given the usefulness of bleeding off some of your population into new cities, I have agreed to found Project Nautilus.”

“This will be a new branch of Star Force construction services focused on underwater development of complete cities, ranging in size from small towns to metropolises. It will be expensive, as you can imagine, but my sources tell me many of you are ready to begin such construction projects tomorrow if I give the word. Well, you can consider the word given. Nautilus construction teams are already assembled and can be deployed as soon as the first of you sign contracts.”

“Now, to the philosophical side of this issue. Many have pointed out that the steps that Star Force is taking is nothing more than a stalling tactic, and that the issue of population control has to be addressed at some point. So let’s address it now.”

“Killing off excess population is abhorrent, therefore it is not a credible option, though it is an expedient method of reducing the demand on resources.”

“Restricting reproduction is a regrettable option, and one that I prefer to avoid. Given certain crises it can be necessary, but with preplanning it can be avoided and never should be considered a permanent solution. True civilization is a free society, and the type of restriction that comes into play violates that mandate. As an emergency measure it is marginally acceptable…far better than to have people starving to death…but it is not a valid, long term option.”

“Where does that leave us then? Infinite expansion? Many would argue that to be foolhardy and unsustainable, and while I agree that larger population levels require greater responsibility upon leadership, it is not prohibitive. There are a great many advantages to having large populations that counter the downsides, so don’t discount growth as merely a problem. Unchecked, it can lead to overpopulation and a host of crisis points that we are now facing…but measured, sustainable, and beneficial growth can be achieved with proper foresight.”

“Star Force is offering that foresight as we continue to push forward the colonization rush, faster than many of you are comfortable with, but I assure you that we know what we’re doing, the risks involved, and that we have a master plan…a key component of which is the fact that space is vast enough to eat up all the population we can throw at it and still laugh at our impotent efforts to fill the universal void.”

“Due to continually updating astronomic research, we’ve identified the presence of thousands of planets around distant stars. While we might not be able to reach them yet, those worlds are there to be had and populated. If we achieve that someday into the future, our population won’t be measured in the billions, it will be measured in the trillions.”

“With that perspective in mind, don’t look on hundreds of millions of births as a massive population explosion, but rather as just one of many stepping stones into the future. We must guard that future closely, for a misstep could spell disaster, without fearing it. Embrace growth. Embrace advancement. Embrace the concept of interplanetary civilization.”

“Even now, in this star system, we have access to dozens of planetoids, most of which can be made habitable, but even those that cannot have orbital tracks for us to populate, as Star Force has taken the first steps in doing with Jupiter. We have plenty of room to expand in our own back yard, so to speak, before we would even need to think about having to push the boundaries of this star system in search of another. Star Force has the means, and the will, to see this broad and aggressive colonization effort forward. Your participation is a matter for each nation to decide what’s in your best interests.”

Davis half turned and gestured to the population density map, with many areas of many nations glowing red.

“Expansion can fix this problem, if handled diligently and wisely. To that end some of you are probably already crunching the numbers. When I said we could accommodate a million the first year, you’re probably thinking what’s the point? That’s a drop in the bucket compared to the global population growth, and even if Star Force grows its operations how much is 2 million, or 3, or even 5 going to achieve?”

“In that line of questioning you see the depth of the problem this planet faces. We don’t just need an exodus from the planet, we need a mass exodus. That is why Star Force has to take an unusual tactic this time around. Normally we don’t do much building on Earth, 99% of our construction efforts being up there,” he said, pointing up at the semi-clear dome above their heads that was just beginning to show starlight now that the sun had set.

“While the construction of the new colonies will be off Earth, we need to build our colonist training centers here to facilitate the processing. Now, I could build another dozen or so copies of Atlantis in the ocean, but that would be prohibitively expensive…and you know from my history that I have rarely used that term with regard to Star Force expenditures,” the Director said, cracking a small smile.

“We need to build on land, not just for Project Exodus, but for Project Harvest as well. This is the most expedient and efficient route available to us, but as you well know land is in short supply, else we wouldn’t have the overpopulation problems that we face. You’re making the most out of what you have and are beginning to expand into your inhospitable climates, for those of you that have them, in search of more building opportunities. We are not going to try to steal those opportunities from you. Besides, we require much more acreage than most of you have available.”

“There is another solution, however. Land that none of you possess, nor want. In exchange I am willing to accede to some of the demands that have been made of Star Force over the previous year regarding mitigation of the penalties handed down from the war. I am hereby willing to cancel the permanent nature of the military bans and instead tie them to the length of your service bans,” he said, drawing audible exclamations of relief and approval from the nations involved. They’d been diplomatically hammering him hard to renegotiate the penalties and the military ban had been their biggest gripe by far.

To those of you who are not suffering any bans, Star Force will compensate you each with one additional territory either on Luna or Mars, as is available, from those Star Force holdings that we haven’t yet developed. I think all of you here will find the arrangement more than sufficient recompense, considering that it is going to cost you nothing more than your approval.”

“I will note the fact that West Africa and China are not here, and I will reiterate the fact that I do not care what they have to say on the matter. If there are any ruffled feathers to deal with, I leave that to you all to deal with as the international body. The Chinese will protest, I have no doubt, but with your consent we will be moving forward regardless.”

“Now, maybe some of you have pieced together my riddle. Good for you if you have. For those of you who haven’t, let me be more clear,” he said, replacing the population statistics with a map of Earth’s southernmost continent.

“For Projects Exodus and Harvest to be fully realized, I need Antarctica.”

Zen’zat

1

July 12, 2112

Along with the runways crisscrossing Atlantis there were hundreds of landing pads for Star Force’s Earth-based air fleet, which consisted primarily of variants of the Mantis-class transport. The VTOL craft were constantly coming to and fro, delivering supplies and personnel across the globe to various spaceports, but over the past two years more than half of all Mantis traffic had been directed to the south, with a never ending circuit of flights delivering supplies down to Antarctica to supplement the naval shipping that carried the bulk of the heavier construction materials.

Mixed into that stream of air traffic today were four medium-sized Mantises that lifted off from Star Force’s capitol in formation and anonymously joined into the flocks of similar craft headed for the southern continent. These four, however, did not carry supplies or technical personnel…they carried the core of Star Force itself.

Paul studied the datapad in his lap that had tracking data for their flight, along with a host of other options that would keep him preoccupied during the trip, but today boredom wasn’t going to be a concern because all around him sat the other 2s, along with the 0s and 1s. The rest of the trailblazers were flying nearby in the other 3 Mantises, plus Davis, who was riding with Greg and the 7s. This was the first time since the 1st Lunar War that they’d been all together, and as was expected they had a great deal to talk about.

The chatter had been nonstop since yesterday, when the offworld Archons had begun to arrive back in Atlantis. Paul was among the first to return, with those stationed out in Jupiter orbit having the greatest distance to travel. Efficient as always, they’d timed all their trips back so that their arrivals coincide on the same day, and after getting in a thorough, post-landing workout they all retreated back to their original quarters block, hitting the lounge as if they hadn’t spent more than a few days away. Easily slipping back into old habits, they broke out the now ancient videogames along with a few newer versions towards the end of the night.

Earlier this morning they’d all gotten in their core workouts, ate breakfast, then boarded the transports for their flight down to Antarctica…and with nothing to do but seat time the catching up escalated to a furious pace, now that they could communicate without the intolerable time lag that interplanetary signals suffered from.

The chatter was all business, as usual. Not one of the Archons had anything even resembling a social life, nor did they want one. Ever since they’d been brought to Atlantis that first day to hear Davis’s speech about the V’kit’no’sat and the threat they posed, the trailblazers had been on a mission and never looked back. Now all in their 80s or 90s, they looked far more fit and younger than they had when they’d first tested into the A7 program, not to mention their energy levels had gone through the roof.

Their former peers wouldn’t have recognized them, having made the transition into ‘old age’ and the lifestyle that went with it. They’d lived the social life, and now had kids, grandkids, and even great grandkids, played golf, watched TV, and patiently waited around to die while the inevitable forward momentum of time swept them from the face of the Earth. As it was, half of their former peers had already died, with many more to come in the following years. Soon they’d be the last of their generation, survivors of the societal life, so to speak.

Dating had seemed like such a priority to Paul when he was back in high school, almost too long ago to remember. Now it seemed pathetically naïve. Training was everything. Dating, partying, and other forms of social interaction were meaningless…literally. Thinking back, he couldn’t find a single purpose to it all, whereas now everything he did had a purpose.

Reproduction was the only viable angle he could identify, and that wasn’t on the trailblazers’ to do list. The population explosion on Earth was supplying sufficient numbers for the future, and while there was some speculation amongst Star Force’s geneticists as to what advancements might occur if two Archons were to produce offspring, they didn’t care to find out. To them, all that they had become was due to their training, and anything that interfered with training wasn’t going to be tolerated.

Most of the other Archons had come to reflect this point of view as well, though there were a few isolated rebellions. To date, only 3 Archons had quit and returned to ‘civilian’ life. Two of them said they couldn’t handle the nonstop training any further…or more pointedly, they didn’t wish to continue it. Both of them stepped down to other positions within Star Force, while the third left the corporation entirely, got married, and retired to obscurity.

All three of them were traitors in the mind of the trailblazers. All Archons had been given information about the V’kit’no’sat during their basic training and updated as new research provided additional insights. They all knew what Earth was up against and how outmatched they were. To abandon that challenge was inconceivable, as far as Paul and the others were concerned, and to this day they still carried significant animosity towards those three. Archons didn’t quit, under any circumstances, yet they had…which made the trailblazers wonder how the hell they’d ever managed to get through basic training in the first place.

Though they’d all had previous life experience before joining Star Force, the trailblazers all had developed a keen distaste for civilians. Not so much those that worked as part of the corporation, but the do-nothing, party-hardy, love-making, out of shape excuses for Humans aimlessly roaming their way through life. It had even gotten to the point where visiting the A7 trainees got to be annoying. This was one of the top things they had been talking about ever since reuniting yesterday, and they’d come to three inevitable conclusions.

First, they weren’t being overly critical. When people are first born they mature mostly on auto-pilot, ‘growing up’ in predictable stages, most of which are unbearably annoying. That was unavoidable, and while they weren’t going to tolerate being around such types, they didn’t hold it against them. They were just newbs, and like the trailblazers had once been, they had to progress through those stages on their own, leveling up as they go.

It was the ones that, upon reaching adulthood, chose not to advance that deserved their scorn. Training was everything, and those who abhorred training were, in the trailblazers’ opinion, Human flunkies. The design of the Human body and mind was predicated on advancement, and those who did not want to advance were betraying their own design. So no, they weren’t being overly critical. Those who tried and failed could be taught how to succeed given sufficient time and training. Those who chose not to try, well, they deserved the short lives that were coming to them.

Second, they and the other Archons were the tip of the spear, meaning they were supposed to be better than everyone else, and the trailblazers even more so than the other Archons. If they couldn’t hack something then they couldn’t expect anyone else to either, so it was in their nature to push the boundaries while others were more content to learn from their lead.

This was touted as a lack of character, but a workable relationship given that the trailblazers expected to be superior, but a part of them still looked down on others for not being as eager to explore their capabilities. One who trusted blindly could not be trusted, and more often than not the narrow, box-like thought patterns within Star Force had to be broken up by those of them imaginative enough to see further and question why things were the way they were.

Vision is what most people lacked. All the Archons had it, otherwise they never would have passed the A7 testing, let alone graduated and become Adepts. Still, the trailblazers were a notch above most of the others, and they decided this was in part due to their being the first class to come through with no benchmarks to measure against. It was a matter of perception that had become culture for them…which meant that others could adapt and pick up that culture as well, as many of the more talented second gen Archons already had.

That meant the problem was fixable with, as always, proper training.

Fortunately there were ‘civies’ that had vision as well. Davis first and foremost among them, but many of his people, handpicked for this reason no doubt, had even gone so far as to grasp the basics of physical training enough for them to achieve self-sufficiency while they focused on their tech specialties. Though seriously inferior to the Archons, they did tip their hats to these visionaries, acknowledging them as if they were kid brothers. But still, given enough time, kid brothers will become unbearably annoying.

Which brought them to their third conclusion. In order for the trailblazers to be themselves, they had to stay away from most people. Not in reclusion, for they worked well within Star Force and with those from other nations they interacted with on missions, but they couldn’t form any sort of relationships with them.

This had been the key point in their discussions, because it seemed that forming a relationship allowed two people to share each other’s knowledge and strengths, which normally would have been an asset. The relationships between the trailblazers had never been anything but beneficial, and they were carefully examining the correlation between the two with some difficulty.

That difficulty lay in the fact that the trailblazers had developed a curious ability to bond with each other while maintaining their individuality, while the civilian population tended to bond in a constricting fashion, making solid bonds that linked two into a pair, in most cases, and that pair operated with a bit of a hive mind.

The Human hive mind, they knew, was a real thing. Wilson had taught them that much long ago, but it had never been a hindrance to the trailblazers. Their love of challenge seemed to bleed through it, enhancing the effect on each other. One person’s success or failure spurred the others on, and their combined energy level was always higher than it was when they were training solo, which was why they liked to pair up for workouts whenever they could…unless they were training solo specifically in an attempt to stress load themselves, where any outside ‘help’ would have been counterproductive.

Everything worked well between them. Efficient, purposeful, logical. The bonds of civilians, however, did not remotely match up. It was considered that maybe what they were seeing was the result of incorrect bond formation. After all, everyone out there was really a newb compared to the Archons, and they’d had the benefit of some of the best trainers on the planet to give them a solid foundation to work from. The people in the general populace didn’t have that. What they did have was other newbs to learn from, and if they were passing bad information along through the hive mind, it was no wonder why things were spiraling out of control.

On their trip down to Antarctica, Paul and the others in his Mantis held a prolonged conversation about the various types of ‘bad bonding,’ beginning with romantic attachment. All of them, it seemed, had suffered from it at some point in their early lives, with heartbreak being one of the stronger emotions they could remember. As they discussed it, they began to lay down some parameters for analysis and quickly came to several conclusions.

The most obvious of which was that romantic/sexual attraction was an idiot switch designed to spur reproduction. By ‘idiot switch’ they meant that it was something that didn’t happen due to excessive thought, it was purely incentive based. An overwhelming sense of pleasure would push all other thoughts aside and the act of reproduction would occur…often leaving one wondering what the hell had just happened afterwards.

There were other idiot switches inherent in Human biological programming. The urge to scratch, or flinch, which happened so quickly it was pure reaction. Touching something hot or cold and pulling back. Stubbing your toe and cussing up a storm…which was actually a distractionary tactic to keep your mind away from the pain as it bled off.

All of these things affected the weak minded person the most, and as such a person could train themselves to become mentally stronger and not respond to idiot switches. The more one was in control of their body the less need there was for preprogrammed responses. It was akin to removing the training wheels from a bike, and as such, the trailblazers’ predilection to respond to idiot switches had long since been burnt out of them. It was a newb susceptibility, they determined, and from that perspective they were able to make several other observations.

Newbs weren’t strong individuals, so a lot of the bad bonding that occurred tended to reinforce a weak area. Oftentimes people would date to achieve a sense of self worth or status elevation…which is why they fell to such emotional lows when that pillar of emotional stability was removed during a breakup. Had the person been a grounded individual beforehand, the heartbreak would never have occurred.

What did that person typically do after a heartbreak? Find someone else to take their former lover’s place, putting in another pillar to shore themselves up when the true problem was a lack of individuality.

Furthermore, the trailblazers discussed the problems that were inherently created in marriage, with the ‘two become one’ philosophy forming the crux of the quandary. Society was full of adages that no marriage is perfect or that fighting is just a normal and good part of the relationship…all of which dodged the real source of the problem.

Romantic relationships were biologically designed to be temporary.

The idiot switch elicited a brief period of intense passion…then it dissipated, perhaps to be rekindled again later, but it never lasted continuously. This was because the act of reproduction wasn’t a continuous one, all it took was a brief moment for conception to occur and the incentive was geared towards that end.

While one might have considered such a conversation to be societally dangerous or awkward it was quite the opposite for the trailblazers, who occupied the entire passenger hold of the Mantis, for amongst them there were no romantic relationships. No marriages, no children, no dating…nothing. And while a few of them had hooked up initially during the basic training, that tendency went by the wayside as if it were just a childhood idiosyncrasy. The more they developed, physically and mentally, the more the idiot switches got overridden. As such, none of the trailblazers had sexual tendencies whirling about their minds nonstop as they had as teenagers, and that gave them a sense of clarity to self-analyze.

They all retained the default sexual programming, but it didn’t assert itself anymore. This, they concluded, was one of the major reasons they had trouble thinking like the civies. With their reproductive programming running out of control and bleeding over into the rest of their thoughts, all logic would seem to disappear. The answer, they knew, was in those people becoming stronger minded and more knowledgeable about their own functions…something that took time and training, meaning that those who eschewed even the most basic of training were literally screwed.

After the trailblazers got through sorting out the various permutations of a bad sexual bond, they progressed into non-romantic areas, from friendships to mentors to parents. Paul especially was interested in discussing the parent angle, as he had gradually fell out of touch with his own family, finding them to be more and more unreachable as time progressed. Both his parents had died years ago, but he had never returned to Earth for their funerals, having been politely exiled from the family beforehand.

He had tried numerous times to pass on some of the things he’d learned from Star Force, but they either couldn’t or wouldn’t understand and continued their self destructive path without so much as lifting a finger to try to avoid it. That Paul couldn’t fathom, nor could he stand by and watch. After doing what he could to try and get them to do even the most basic training, and failing, he relinquished the pressure to maintain the family link and let them drift away to their own fates. A part of him still classified this as failure, because he instinctively didn’t give up on friends or family, but in truth those sitting around him now were his real family. Those he had been born to were just his entry point in a genetic lottery.

The genetic lottery theory had been popping up on the Archon message boards a bit, which was yet another reason why none of them were interested in reproducing, for they figured that their offspring would be just a random person inserted into the universe rather than being inherently linked to the biological parents. It might have been true that they would share some physical or mental characteristics at inception, but as for who they were on the inside, that was lottery, and if Paul had a son or daughter the chances that they would be Archons some day was no greater than anyone else on the planet, so what was the point in having children of his own?

In addition to that was the time spent caring for children. Paul and the others didn’t have time to spare, and they wondered about the logic of having parents raise their own offspring. In fact that discussion had been going through the ranks for some time and Project Canderous was taking a very different approach on the matter. The biological parents of the children had no dealings with their offspring, who were being ‘raised’ by professional handlers in larger groups that would become their ‘family,’ much like what Paul and the other trailblazers had experienced when going through their basic training together.

Was there truly something to the parent-child relationship, or was it just another case of bad bonding? Some would say there definitely was, and point back to their own childhood as proof while others would point out the success of various orphans who didn’t have their biological parents around and perhaps were raised by adoptive parents or none at all. Normally, society saw such questions as taboo, but Star Force wasn’t society and the new colonies it was setting up gave them some leeway to try and correct some of the inherent flaws circulating throughout the hive mind. A few of the Archons had taken it upon themselves to help combat these societal flaws and had a heavy hand in the planning of several of Star Force’s civilization projects.

The rest of the discussion leading up to the Mantis quartet crossing over land covered other, less prevalent forms of bad bonding, and as a group the 0s, 1s, and 2s were able to hash out a lot of answers with the final conclusion being that while they could help others advance by forming bonds with them, and do so in miraculous terms given their skill level, such bonds would have an equally diminishing effect on the Archons, slowing them down as they helped to speed others along.

Because of that, they determined, they had to stand apart at the tip of the spear and push as far as they could go. If others followed them, great…but they couldn’t hold their hands. The trailblazers needed to be free to go and do whatever was required, improvising along the way…and non-individualistic bonding did not support improvisation. It was regimental and habit-based, which was why, in terms of growth, it often resulted in stagnation…and stagnation was the enemy of all training.

The way of the Jedi, Paul thought to himself, summing it all up as the Mantis came into visual range of their destination. On his datapad he could see the wide, rocky expanse covered in a nearly flat blanket of snow with a few small peaks off in the distance that broke up the otherwise totally white landscape. In the center of it, however, was a wide building built in typical Star Force grey aesthetic that most of their engineering projects resulted in. It appeared as a wide, thin horizontal line that gradually grew into a flat, 20-story high building stretching out to cover more than a square mile of acreage.

Once the Mantis flew over the roof Paul spotted a cluster of landing pads near the center of the foodstuff production facility. There were already two cargo-laden Mantises on the ground, with a third just taking off. The massive building below them was one of the initial pieces of Project Harvest, growing crops indoors on the otherwise infertile continent. With several floors that multiplied the available acreage, and a year-round growing season, the facility was producing grain nonstop, having staggered the harvest dates to allow for continual shipments that saw Mantis traffic coming in and out on a daily basis.

Running out the opposite side of the building was a long rail line that connected to a distant ocean port, giving Star Force the ability to ship grain out by sea if necessary. Right now that wasn’t an issue, but as more and more of these Harvest facilities came online the available Mantis fleet was going to quickly become insufficient, so plans for a more robust distribution network were already in the initial construction stages.

Paul stowed his datapad in a receptacle under his seat as the Mantis set down on the landing pad, then got up and walked out the back ramp as a blast of cold air hit him. He and the others weren’t wearing anything more than their standard uniforms, but fortunately they didn’t have far to walk.

As he followed Jason outside he stepped down into an inch of fresh snow and looked around, marveling at the rooftop landscape and the small peaks off on the horizon. He’d spent so many of his recent years on Venus that the snowy landscape seemed stark in contrast. On one hand it was unbearably cold, but clean and vibrant at the same time. Venus was inhospitable, but the air here was fresh and the sky was pure blue with a bright sun overhead that did little to fight back the cold. In some ways Paul felt like he was on another planet entirely, for this wasn’t the Earth that he remembered.

Then again, all his recent memories of the planet were from the tropical zone that Atlantis inhabited.

The other three Mantises landed beside theirs on identical pads and the rest of the trailblazers rushed out and over to the rooftop entrance to the facility. It was a box-like building that held two pairs of stairways along with a large cargo elevator for grain shipments up and cargo shipments coming back down. The visitors hit the stairs and flowed down them like a lithe and agile waterfall, forming into a large pool at the very bottom in some sort of welcome center.

“Excuse me,” Davis said, pushing his way through the group and up to the front desk that served the administrative area on the opposite side of the side wall. He had a brief chat with the receptionist then led the group out into the factory, showing them the large interior fields that were sectioned off into rectangular pods that held a carbon dioxide-rich and over-pressurized atmosphere, which caused the plants to grow to inordinate sizes. As they walked a circuitous route, Paul saw not only grain crops, but forests of fruit trees behind the glass walls bearing enormous apples and oranges the size of his head.

Further down he also spotted a harvesting cycle on a patch of carrots, with machine arms prying up individual plants out of the artificial soil. His eyes went wide when one of the tubers was removed and ended up being more than a meter long.

A few steps down and he passed the control booth, where an army of remote operators manipulated the arms so they could harvest the carrot crop without having to depressurize the growing pods. Paul nodded his appreciation to a pair of the workers when they glanced his way, then followed the hoard of Archons on to a less populated section of the facility.

In what looked like a maintenance area, Davis brought them to a pair of large doors, obviously designed for the transportation of cargo crates given their width. The Director input an access code into a wall mount and the overly thick doors retracted into the walls as a wave of hot air washed out onto Paul and the others.

Davis smiled widely and led them inside.

Paul was in the back third of the line so he couldn’t see much ahead of them, but the group was apparently headed down another level via a catwalk. When those in front of him stepped down the first of the stairs he got his first look at the green/black stone that comprised the southwest corner of the top of the V’kit’no’sat pyramid.

2

As he walked down the stairs Paul and several other trailblazers reached out their hands to touch the alien stone, finding it really was warm to their fingertips, as the research notes they’d studied at length had suggested. He let his hand slide all the way down the stone wall as they descended until the catwalk suddenly disappeared and they all found themselves standing on the second tier surface of the pyramid underneath an artificial ceiling that was the foundation of the building above them.

Not too far in the distance Paul could see a wall of dirt, meaning that this piece of the pyramid was all that had been dug out, but according to the schematics the footprint extended for many miles, with the top tier being the width of several football fields and perfectly square. The second tier was likewise flat and square, ringing the top tier on a lower level, with subsequent tiers extending down into the bedrock, making the pyramid larger the deeper you traveled.

Davis led the group across the flat-topped second tier to a catwalk stairway built over the edge that let them walk down to the third. It was here that they came to the uppermost entrance where they’d initially cut into the pyramid. Now the doors stood wide open, but Paul could see the damage marks as they approached.

This tier had also been cleared of dirt and debris for a wide perimeter, with additional tunnels having been dug as access corridors to other surface features. In addition, Star Force had built small rail lines that ran across the surface of the pyramid to where they connected to lift shafts that went straight up the side of the 2nd tier. Paul knew they were for cargo transport, but he didn’t see any crates or cars lying around, which made him wonder where else the tracks led to further down the side of the pyramid.

“Jason, Paul, and Greg please wait here,” Davis said when they got to the entrance. “The rest of you, go explore,” he said, pointing them inside.

With unabashed smiles the trailblazers filed inside as if they were in line to an amusement park, more than eager to look around the alien pyramid that had been toying with their imagination for some 70 years.

Paul stepped out of line and joined Jason next to Davis and Greg as the others disappeared from view.

“There’s something I want you to see first before you go exploring,” Davis said, his merriment dissipating a bit. “I want a fresh set of eyes.”

“What is it?” Greg asked as the older man led them inside and through the egg-shaped hallways.

“I’d rather not say just yet, and it’ll take us a while to get there. We’ve yet to find anything similar to an elevator or cargo lift, so we’ll have to walk several miles.”

“Supplies?” Jason asked.

“By hand, as near as we can guess,” Davis said, turning them right at the first curvy T-junction. “I admit, that doesn’t make much sense, but the tier we walked in from functions as a type of landing pad for the Human section of the pyramid, and that door is the only way in up here.”

“What about the dead zones?” Paul asked, referring to the limited maps that had been passed on to them with large gaps missing.

“We drilled into one last year, but it turned out to be a double door and we haven’t gotten around to the second one yet. I don’t like punching holes that we can’t fix, and I’m hoping that we’ll eventually be able to get computer access to unlock them remotely.”

“Why can’t you hack the door locks?” Greg asked. “I know we haven’t got a grasp on their crystal tech, but shouldn’t you be able to physically interrupt the command path and send your own?”

“Tried and failed,” Davis admitted. “I know I didn’t put this in the reports, but I have a sneaking suspicion that the stone is more than stone and has processing power of its own, so there’s no way to isolate the physical aspects from the computerized ones, because they’re one and the same…or so my theory goes, anyway. We haven’t been able to confirm or deny that yet,” he said, stopping as they passed through an atrium that held a wide set of stone-like doors. “Case in point.”

Paul knew from the pyramid schematics, which they’d all memorized, that this door let to one of the missing sections on the map.

“Coloration is different,” Greg said, frowning. “I don’t remember seeing that on the photos.”

“Neither do I,” Jason added, noting the almost phosphorescent ring around the doors.

“What do you mean?” Davis asked.

“The bright ring and symbols,” Greg explained. “Those weren’t included in the research data you sent us.”

Davis squinted. “I don’t see any…wait, yes I do now. Strange, I hadn’t noticed that before,” he said, walking over and rubbing a finger along the glowing ring. “It’s faint, but we shouldn’t have missed that. Sloppy,” he pronounced, but intrigued at the same time.

Paul and Jason exchanged glances.

“Faint?” Jason asked. “They’re glowing.”

Davis frowned. “I can barely make them out.”

“Can you see the symbols?” Greg asked.

“Where?”

“On the doors,” he said, walking forward and pointing. “I’ve seen this before. It’s the Human marker, but this is new,” he noted, swinging his finger over to the second symbol and brushing it up against the weird red color that almost made his eyes hurt for its intensity.

Suddenly the white ring around the door changed color to match the symbols and the doors pulled open, with Greg flinching backwards in surprise.

“I thought these were locked?” he said, looking inside as another hallway was made available to them.

“Hold on a second,” Davis said, his brow furrowed in concentration. “I could barely see the ring, and I didn’t see any symbols. I take it that’s not the case for you three?”

“Bright as can be,” Greg attested.

“Son of a bitch,” Davis muttered. “I should have seen this sooner.”

“The ambrosia,” Jason commented, catching on. “You copied it exactly?”

Davis nodded. “I always thought it was too complex to be just a nutritional supplement. What are your current dosage levels?”

“7.5,” Jason said, starring at the now red ring around the open doors.

“6.7,” Greg added.

“5.9,” Paul said, a little miffed at being the lightest of the three.

“I’m at .3,” Davis noted, nodding emphatically. “Last time I was here was before I started taking the ambrosia, and I believe that the most any of the research staff take is 1 deci every other day. If the concentration has to be high enough to enable us to see hidden markings and open sealed doors…”

“Then it’s a good thing you finally decided to bring us all down here,” Greg pointed out.

“Is that an ‘I told you so?’”

“It is,” Greg said without animosity.

“I stand corrected then…but you know my reasons.”

“Why allow computer access to those without ambrosia?” Paul wondered aloud, thinking ahead a bit.

“Internal caste structure?” Greg asked, looking to Davis.

“A good question…and a better one is will we get additional computer access if you’re the ones using the equipment?”

Greg glanced at the newly opened hallway. “Let’s organize this, then we can go on an Easter Egg hunt.”

“Agreed,” Davis said, throwing a quick glance at the now open door that had been sealed to them for the better part of a century. “I’ll take you to the command deck.”

The ‘command deck’ was the largest room in the pyramid, or rather chasm might have been a more appropriate term. Davis and his original exploration team had stumbled upon it early on, finding many dinosaur skeletons laying around, but they hadn’t glimpsed the true magnitude until months later when they’d finally found the ‘switch’ for the interior lights.

The room was oddly square, much like the exterior of the pyramid but foreign to the interior motif of curves which filled the nearly mile wide chamber. Circular pedestals made of resistant cushioning popped up across the landscape in irregular patterns, some were even elongated into wide arcs that the dinosaurs would rest upon, with the intervening spaces being that of the warm stone floor separating the upraised islands in a truly awe inspiring sight from the ground.

More than half of the pedestals had Human access stairs that led to control consoles on top of the pads, each of which could hold many dinosaurs. On top of these pads had been the skeletal remains of the former owners, but had since been cleared away and replaced by prefabricated structures of Star Force make, giving the research teams direct access to the sites rather than requiring them to make the long walks to and from the entrances scattered around the perimeter.

“Wow,” Jason commented as they climbed through the enormous doorway and up onto the command deck. The ceiling was high above, but not so high that it appeared distant, for compared to the side reaching expanses it was relatively low, though several hundred meters overhead.

“You said it,” Paul echoed as Davis led them along one of several color-coded lines that had been painted on the floor to help with navigation. Everything was so oversized that it was hard to get one’s bearings, so the research team had created their own ‘highways’ through the liberal use of paint on the otherwise pristine green/black stone floor.

“As the reports said, we believe this was the command center for the pyramid, and perhaps even the planet,” Davis offered as he glanced around for the off chance of finding an unused transport, then began the long walk out to the nearest of the pedestal pads. “We’re fairly sure that each of these islands held significance within the V’kit’no’sat’s political structure, though the dynamics of that we haven’t been able to define. There are what look like Human-only areas in the four corners of the deck, denoting the lowest ranking members, with two large banks in the center that you can almost make out from here that we guess mark the location of the more dominant races.”

“Below this level the various chambers appear to be split up according to race, but this area seems to have been communal. I would guess these are workstations more than seats, but we have no video records of activities in these areas to study. There is technology on the islands that does not appear to be designed for Human usage, but we haven’t been able to get it even remotely functional. Everything we have is from the Human perspective…which now appears to be the lower ranking Human perspective.”

“Have you been able to find out any more about the Human societal structure?” Greg asked as they followed a white line on the floor.

“Hints only, references to orders and such. This new ambrosia link suggests a much greater division, however.”

Paul raised an eyebrow. “You don’t think they were all on ambrosia?”

“We have access to the computer systems because of our genetics…I’m sure about that. I’m guessing that the ambrosia offers a second tier security function for more higher ranking Humans. I could barely see the ring around the doors but I couldn’t make out the symbols. It is possible that the level of access is determined by the concentration of the ambrosia…or perhaps something it leaves behind in the body, or an alteration that it makes.”

“If we can leave each other messages that only we can see…” Jason pointed out.

“Oh, I like that,” Greg said, thinking of all the applications they could use it for within Star Force.

“So,” Paul said, rubbing his hands together in exaggerated anticipation. “Where’s the secret paint?”

“It’s probably beyond our ability to produce, if it’s part of the construction of the stone,” Davis said, cracking a smile, “but I’ll have the research team look into it.”

“The other versions of ambrosia?” Jason inquired.

Davis turned back to look at the Archon and nodded. “Good point.”

“That won’t help if the doors are also genetically locked,” Greg added, referring to the dinosaur-only versions, which were constructed from different formulas than that of the Human-based ambrosia.

“True, but if we’re ever able to hack our way around the genetic locks it could be useful…if the theory is correct.”

“Director!” one of the research staff yelled down to him as they approached the bottom of the staircase that led up to the top of the nearest pedestal. “We have new computer access! I don’t know how, but the Archon was able to get further into the system!”

“More than that,” Davis said evenly as he took the stairs two at a time, “they can unlock some of the sealed doors. I think it has to do with the concentration of ambrosia within their systems,” he said, hurrying over to the nearest terminal where Sam and Ryan were standing, their eyes glued to a holographic display as they flipped through previously untouched portions of the pyramid’s database.

Suddenly the two Archons smiled and fist bumped, then turned back to look at the newcomers.

“What did you find?” Greg asked, knowing those smiles meant something big.

Ryan laughed once, then answered for the pair. “The pyramid has weapons.”

3

“Weapons?” Jason asked, jumping up the last three stairs.

“Oh yeah,” Ryan said, pointing to a holographic display floating over the control console he and Sam were using. “At’se bellet.”

Jason looked at the alien script that read ‘primary weapon’ at the top of a long list of other systems, most of the vocabulary he didn’t recognize. “Schematics?”

Ryan tapped the solid holographic words and a 3d diagram of the pyramid manifested itself in place of the list with the top tier of the pyramid highlighted and connected by several root-like shafts reaching down and around the command deck to the power generation systems below.

“Wait a minute,” Sam said, looking at the diagram. “That’s bigger than it should be.”

“30 tiers,” Paul counted. “Our map only has 18.”

“Looks like we’ve got a lot more doors to unlock,” Greg commented, coming up and placing a hand on Ryan’s shoulder. “We think the ambrosia acts as a security key. One of the permanently sealed doors opened up for us, and we were able to see secret markings on the walls that the research team couldn’t.”

“That’s probably how we got access then,” Sam said, nodding to the console. “We were running through the databanks and followed a link to the main system inventory, something he said they’d never been able to access.”

“Sam, what are you looking at now?” Davis asked, walking up beside him and the other Archons while the tech hovered around behind them, trying to get a better view.

“It seems to be a large weapon mounted atop the pyramid,” he said, pointing to the highlighted spot.

“Interesting…because I don’t see anything at the end of your finger.”

Paul glanced at Davis, then back at the hologram. “Invisible holograms too?”

Sam frowned. “You mean you can’t see the pyramid here?”

“No, it looks like the hologram isn’t even turned on. You said there are 30 tiers?”

Sam recounted. “Yep.”

Davis turned to the tech and pointed a thumb over his shoulder to the prefab structure sitting off a few meters to their right. “Get the word out that I want all the Archons to rendezvous back here and I want all the staff to do likewise.”

“It’ll take some time,” the man said, knowing how spread out the teams were. They’d actually had to set up base camps on the various levels, the pyramid was so vast.

“I know,” Davis said, with the tech nodding and heading to the door to access their comm equipment.

“If I’m reading this right,” Ryan said, pulling up some additional text, “it’s some form of energy weapon with an insane range.”

“That can’t be right,” Jason said, doing the mental math.

“Past Luna?” Sam asked for confirmation.

“That’s how I’m reading it. Paul?”

“Same here. And those power levels are nuts.”

“Would someone mind translating?” Davis asked.

“Sorry,” Paul offered. “There are statistics with the diagram, and the primary weapon seems to be for orbital defense, with a firing range of half a million kilometers.”

“You said it was located where?”

“At the summit.”

Davis nodded. “There is a large dead zone there that we’ve never been able to access.”

“Time out a second,” Sam said, with the other trailblazers turning their attention away from the hologram. “I thought all the V’kit’no’sat took ambrosia. Who is this meant to be hidden from?”

“An excellent question,” Davis acknowledged, still annoyed at not being able to see the new data. “These systems were clearly designed for Human use, but the ambrosia…if it really is the ambrosia…suggests that not all Humans were trusted with the same level of access, both to the computer systems and to certain regions of the pyramid. If there are another 12 missing tiers that’s a huge area being blocked off, considering how each progressive tier gets larger the further down you go. What we find there should give us some answers.”

“Unless those are dino-only regions,” Greg noted.

“That’s a possibility,” Davis admitted. “But we know we at least have access to at least one new area up top.”

“What’s up?” Sara asked as she hopped up the stairs with Jace and Zak in tow, followed by a couple of scientists.

“We’re going to split up into search teams,” Greg said, walking a few steps away to fill everyone in as they arrived while the others kept digging into the computer system.

“Where’s ground level supposed to be,” Jason asked, fiddling with the controls.

“Here,” Ryan said, hitting a few keys on the control board. Suddenly surveillance footage of the exterior popped up around and replacing the diagram, showing a tropical rainforest. “Ok, that’s not exactly what I expected.”

“Timestamp,” Paul pointed out, floating above the pyramid. It took him a moment to translate the date, given that the V’kit’no’sat didn’t base their measurement system off of Earth’s orbital length, but rather had a standard system used throughout their empire. “100,000ish years ago?”

“No way,” Sam said, slightly nudging Ryan aside. “He reached down and touched the base of the hologram with two fingers and pulled them apart, enlarging the map until several burnt out tracks of forest were visible. He looked around for the time controls, but didn’t see any floating in mid air so he tried the keys.

“Battle scars?” Ryan guessed, looking at the damage to the forest…then suddenly the damage disappeared, replaced by full grown trees as Sam found the skip/rewind button. After several minutes of experimenting and learning how to dial down the sensitivity of the time jumps he brought it to the point where the trees had gone missing.

“What kind of weapon is that?” Ryan asked as a wave of what looked like slow moving, neon blue/green water spilled down from overhead and disintegrated the vegetation.

“Can you run that in real time?” Jason asked.

“That is real time,” Sam said, checking once again anyway.

“What’s that?” Paul said, pointing to the center of the destruction. The neon ‘water’ collected on the surface, slowly dissipating while it spread out and revealed three objects beneath that had been undamaged in the attack, protected beneath some kind of invisible dome that was keeping the ‘water’ at bay around their thick feet.

Suddenly one of the three spike-topped aliens let loose a cascade of energy, apparently emitting from its spikes, into the forest ahead, targeting some unseen attacker as tiny bolts of green energy amassed in droves from elsewhere in the forest.

All four Archons fell silent for a long moment, watching the battle take place. The three Hjar’at held their position while the blue goo disappeared, then a wave of tiny metallic-looking chickens broke through the brush and leapt at them. Two were caught in mid air by another spike-generated energy blast, but there were too many to stop. Four more slipped alongside the centermost Hjar’at and fired at its neck with their tiny weapons, pumping round after round into what, upon a closer zoom of the recording, appeared to be heavy battle armor that the dinosaur was wearing.

Sam paused the footage, zooming in again and finding that the camera view could rotate and spin about, as if the entire battle had been recorded in 3d. The camera view he had moved into the gap between the center and left Hjar’at, then he flew it in up close to where the ‘chickens’ were attacking its neck.

“Rit’ko’sor,” Paul identified the ‘chickens.’

“They’re both wearing armor,” Jason added, referring to the Raptors and Stegosauruses.

“I don’t know what’s recording this, but there are dead zones,” Sam said, pointing to the visible underside of the central Hjar’at, where only a wireframe connected the left and right side of the beast. He spun the camera around a bit and noticed that the trees near the pyramid were also wireframe only, save for the canopy which appeared in full visual view.

“Backtrack to that big weapon hit,” Jason said, “and zoom out. Let’s see where it came from.”

Sam worked the controls, now getting more familiar with the feel of them, and brought them back to the impact of the neon ‘water,’ then zoomed out, revealing that it came from a point on the third tier of the pyramid.

“Point defense?” Paul suggested.

“That doesn’t hurt the Hjar’at?” Ryan added.

“Let it play through,” Jason prompted.

Sam zoomed back in a bit and released the pause, watching the odd weapon tear away the forest, the spike-generated energy blasts, and the Rit’ko’sor rush. When they got back to the point where they were at the center one’s neck blasting away at point blank range the much more massive dinosaur jerked to the side and pointed its helmeted face back towards the pyramid, whipping its huge tail around in a 180 degree arc and crushing two of the Rit’ko’sor on impact.

There was no sound accompanying the recording, but to Paul it almost felt like he could hear the crunch of their armored plates as the two smaller Rit’ko’sor were knocked back the way they’d come, flying into still more pouring out of the jungle, not all of which were wearing armor. The newest arrivals had a spine plate and helmet, but the rest of their tough skin was visible, making Paul wonder if they were seeing different classes of warriors, with maybe the first wave being the more elite troops now being followed up by their version of ‘grunts.’

The other two Rit’ko’sor deftly jumped over the swinging tail, one of which landed on top of the twin row of spike plates on the Hjar’at’s back. It fired down in between them several times, then jumped free as another energy cascade spread between the plates. Its twin, meanwhile, leapt forward again and pumped more and more tiny green blasts into the damaged neck armor and finally drew first blood a moment before the Hjar’at curled its neck down and tucked its head, shoulder rolling to the left and impaling the Rit’ko’sor with one of its forward spike plates, nearly cutting the other alien in half.

It blew the mortally wounded dinosaur off its skewer with a cascading energy blast as more and more Rit’ko’sor emerged from the charred and smoking tree line. Most of the fully armored versions were gone, replaced by the augmented ones, but they still had the same green forearm-mounted weapons and they swarmed against the bloody breach in the Hjar’at’s neck armor. Blast after blast expanded the gap, and eventually the massive beast went down.

Another neon ‘water’ attack fell on top of the two surviving Hjar’at and the dozens of Rit’ko’sor surrounding them. From the camera viewpoint, which Sam had lowered down to their level, everything disappeared in the tidal wave, then as it cleared the tops of the Hjar’at sparkled with some type of an energy field that was repelling the attack, while the Rit’ko’sor and the wounded Hjar’at were incinerated on contact. The smaller dinosaurs disappeared entirely, but a smoking lump only a fifth the size of the former monster remained behind, marking the spot where it had been felled.

As more Rit’ko’sor reinforcements appeared, seemingly in identical numbers to the other waves as if they were staggering their attack, an artificial icon appeared in the air over the battle, denoting something that none of the Archons could recognize. It flashed three times then faded away as the battle continued.

“Zoom out,” Paul suggested. When Sam did so he pointed to the opposite side of the pyramid. “Swing around to the hangar.”

Sam touched various points on the 3d map and physically swung the whole thing around as if he were manipulating a touchscreen, only with the extra dimension added.

“I think that icon was a perimeter breach warning,” Paul explained, pointing to a tiny line of quickly moving Rit’ko’sor entering the pyramid through some sort of service entrance next to the main doors, which were still closed. Next to them were several large corpses, accompanied by hundreds of smaller ones…the defenders no doubt that had been overrun by the numerically superior Rit’ko’sor.

“Rewind,” Paul said, pointing to the service entrance. “I want to see how they got inside. Explosives won’t work on the stone…at least not anything we have access to.”

Jason finally glanced back at Davis, who was standing quietly by listening. “Still can’t see anything?”

“I’m afraid not,” the Director admitted.

“It’s a battle record, and if the timestamp is accurate this could be the attack that ended the V’kit’no’sat presence on Earth.”

“I’d gathered as much,” he said as Jason’s eyes were drawn back to the invisible hologram.

“There,” Paul said, pointing for Sam to zoom in closer. “Some sort of lock pick,” he said, referring to a small, shiny device about the size of his head that the Rit’ko’sor had placed on the door.

“Is that what I think it is?” Sara asked, finally stepping up behind them along with half a dozen other Archons.

“We’re just beginning to find stuff,” Paul told her. “Battle records included.”

“I think we can safely say why there’s restricted access,” Jason decided, facing Davis. “You’ve been working with civilian access. This is military.”

“Plausible,” Davis considered without jumping to any conclusions. “With the amount of ambrosia needed to be able to see what you’re seeing, it’s possible that only warriors would put in the amount of training required to raise their thresholds to that level.”

“That’s one bit of good news,” Morgan said, just arriving to the group after Greg had filled her in on the basics at the top of the stairs.

“How so?” Davis asked.

“Because it means that training wise we’re on par with at least their junior warriors, else we wouldn’t have access to this security measure.”

“Finally something to measure against?” Paul asked in agreement.

“And if these are military records, there might be a great deal more to compare with.”

“I’ll leave you to the records search then,” Davis said, politely extracting himself from the group he suddenly found himself inadequate to be a part of. “I’ll split the research staff up and have them lead the others around to the sealed sections and see how many doors we can open up.”

Jason nodded to the man as he left, then turned his attention back to the battle records as another glob of ‘water’ shot out from the pyramid and burnt a second gaping hole into a section of forest that they couldn’t see any troops within, nor anything else due to the thick canopy covering that region.

“Sam, back it up again. Let’s see how all this started.”

4

“Here it is,” Davis told Rafa and Oni as they got back to the set of doors that they’d initially unlocked. “Can you see the ring and symbols?”

“Yes, clearly,” Rafa attested as Oni nodded her agreement.

“This is as far as we got before we decided to get everyone squared away,” Davis told him, holding his hand out. “After you, and let me know if you see any other markings.”

“Will do,” Rafa said, stepping across the threshold and into the sealed section. It was little more than a straight hallway with doors set into either side, 8 in total before the wide walkway split in two and circled around a central room. They found five other such hallways radiating off like spokes around the circle, with only one set of already open doors granting them access to the central chamber…which was empty save for a console on the far wall, which was also curved to match the interior wall of the ring-like corridor.

The ceiling was high and had a domed curve that reached to an apex as smooth as the rest of the chamber. It was also dim, with only trim lighting and the buttons on the console providing any illumination, other than that spilling in from the well lit hallway.

“Ideas?” Davis asked as they walked across the center of the room towards the console.

“Floor is soft,” Rafa commented.

“Walls too,” Oni said, driving one of her little fingers into the dark red material, which depressed a couple of centimeters. “Padding of some sort.”

“Training area?” Davis asked.

“Maybe,” Rafa said, walking up on Davis’s shoulder as the director touched a few buttons on the console.

“If you see any holograms let me…”

Suddenly the lights flashed on and a person appeared a few meters behind them, as if running into sight from an invisible hideaway. The tall Human took five steps forward and brought an elbow down on top of Davis’s head.

The blow knocked the Director down, but didn’t fully land as Rafa hurled himself at the attacker, blunting most of the strike as the pair wrapped up and fell to the ground. Oni dragged the stunned Davis aside and scanned the area, trying to figure out what was going on while Rafa disengaged himself, rolling to the side and up onto his feet, then taking a large hop backwards to clear fighting space as the man swung at him with a leg sweep that missed inches short before he too rolled up onto his feet and charged at Rafa.

“Move,” Oni told Davis as he held his head, blinking away the pain and haze. Seeing no one else in sight she pulled him by the elbow towards the door as Rafa exchanged forearm blows with the larger man, being driven back a few steps by his superior strength but holding him at bay long enough for Oni to get Davis clear.

“Call the others,” she told him at the doorway, referring to the earpiece he’d picked up below, before turning about and heading back in to help Rafa.

Davis backpedaled cautiously, touching his ear and contacting his staff who were spread out across the pyramid, escorting the Archons around. He hoped some of them were close.

Oni crossed to the center of the chamber in the blink of an eye and jump-kicked into the man’s right side as Rafa wisely turned his attention away from her, setting up the heavy strike.

The bulky giant, a good head taller than Rafa, went down hard, stunned by the unexpected attack as the two Archons orbited around him. “Who are you?” Rafa demanded.

Not seeming to care to talk, the man got back up and spun around in a twirling run headed towards Oni. When he got within range he didn’t stop his rotation, but rather extended arms and legs in a flurry of odd blows that he executed artfully. They caught her off guard, forcing her to step back and back and back until she took a chance and darted in with a fist-locked shove aimed at his torso…but his arm whipped around too fast and knocked her blow off target.

The man caught and locked Oni’s arms against his chest, pulling her off balance as his spinning momentum threw her much lighter body back towards Rafa as he tried a nearly simultaneous attack. Oni’s head hit him in the gut and knocked them both down, then Rafa saw a massive foot coming down over his head.

He twisted aside just in time, then kicked up at the man’s crotch in response, catching him in the side of the leg instead as the man danced aside and out of range…only to step forward towards Rafa again as he tried to get up, launching into a forward, midair summersault that ended with an outstretched leg that came down hard on Rafa’s left side, hitting him in the pelvis and knocking him back down.

In the moment of awkward positioning the attack left the man in Oni tackled him, wrapping an arm around his thick neck and working her way around and onto his back, then latching on with her legs and immobilizing him as much as possible. As Rafa struggled to his feet the man lifted Oni up off the ground as he rolled over onto his hands and knees, then jumped up and to the side, landing on his back and crushing Oni into the padded floor.

She yelled on impact, but her grip didn’t break. As the man tried to roll aside again to get his arms and feet underneath him she yanked him back, putting her right leg out as leverage to keep him on top of her in a giant bear hug as Rafa suddenly appeared in mid air over top of them both. He fell elbow first down into the man’s exposed gut, just below Oni’s locked arms, and impaled the man with as much force as he could bring to bear…knowing that Oni was going to suffer for it too.

He felt his elbow hit the man’s taught muscles and dig in several inches as the two Humans were crunched down into the floor…then suddenly the pressure beneath his elbow vanished, along with the man.

Rafa’s elbow fell down onto Oni, as did the rest of his body, delivering an unintentional hit to her crotch.

“Ooowww!” she moaned as air was suddenly available to her lungs. “Son of a…”

“Sorry,” Rafa offered, looking around. “What just happened?”

“I don’t…know,” she said, coughing and feeling her chest. “Ah, think I’ve got a broken rib…or three.”

“My bad,” Rafa said, rolling off her and pulling his fellow adept up to her feet. As he did he saw a hologram had appeared over the console. “Check that out.”

“Sure,” she said, walking over to it while he stood guard, looking for another attacker to pop out of nowhere.

Oni recognized about half the script, the rest were independent symbols that she wasn’t familiar with. The V’kit’no’sat language had a basic alphabet, but it also had thousands of unique symbols, such as the one used to represent Humans, which marked various rooms and files meant for their access. Each of the V’kit’no’sat races had their own identification symbol, but these she was seeing were something else entirely.

The part she could read was mostly numbers. It took her head a while to wrap around the glowing figures and descriptions, but when she worked her way down to ‘grad’ac tas,’ which translated as ‘elapsed time,’ and she saw the figure attached to it she swore in vexation.

“Damn.”

“What?” Rafa asked, still alert and scanning the room.

“You can relax. I think it’s a training program that was left running when the pyramid was attacked. It probably went into powersave mode until Davis touched the console.”

“Holographic?” Rafa said, still not taking his attention off the room as he walked over to the console.

“These read like statistics. The timer also says it’s been on for 100,000 years.”

“Damn,” Rafa echoed her previous statement. “I thought he felt a little weird.”

“And heavy…heavier than one of the Knights.”

“I wonder what difficulty that was on…and how much damage had been inflicted before we got to it?”

Oni reached down and held a hand against her crotch, bending over in anguish. “You just had to jump on me, didn’t you?”

“You set up the opening. Isn’t that what you wanted me to do?”

“Yeah, it was,” she admitted. “Didn’t expect him to disappear and have you bone me,” she said, squinting as she tried to massage away some of the discomfort. “That’s gonna leave a mark.”

Rafa smiled at her playful exaggeration as Ross and Tyr came running into view, with Davis coming back down the hall behind them.

“It’s over,” Rafa said as Oni straightened back up and the other two Archons slid to a halt inside the chamber.

“Where is he?” Tyr demanded.

“It was a hologram…we think,” Oni explained, gesturing to the floating statistics. “A training program left in sleep mode until we woke it up.”

“Seriously?” Ross asked.

“Yeah,” she said, feeling her ribcage again.

“Are you alright?” Davis asked, finally catching up to the much faster Archons.

“Little banged up,” she said, waving aside his concerns.

“Where is he?”

“Back in the computer,” Rafa told him. “We think this is some sort of hand to hand training chamber. The attacker was holographic.”

“We think,” Oni emphasized.

“Whoops,” Davis said sheepishly. “Sorry about that. Didn’t know what I was turning on.”

“It wasn’t you,” Rafa assured him. “It was in sleep mode. I’d guess any key would have turned it back on.”

“Sleep mode? Since…” Davis said, his face clearing with sudden understanding. “All this time?”

“Timestamp,” Oni said, pointing to the appropriate line on the hologram.

Davis frowned. “Let me guess, another hologram?”

“You can’t see it?”

“Apparently not. Do you want to stay and work on this or leave it till later?”

“I’ll stay…I don’t feel like walking around just yet,” she said, throwing Rafa a mock glare as Cora came running into the room.

“Situation handled,” Rafa told her as Davis got on his radio to call off the others.

“What happened?” she asked, looking around.

“Stick around and I’ll fill you in,” Oni told her. “The rest of you can check out the other rooms, and stay on your toes.”

“Right,” Rafa agreed, pointing back to the doorway, “no way of knowing how much other stuff they left on. How’s your head?”

“No concussion,” Davis said as the foursome walked out, “but I imagine I’ll have a nasty bruise by tomorrow.”

“Ross,” Rafa prompted as they walked around a piece of the ring-like hallway and into one of the spurs, letting the other Archon go first while he stayed back to watch over Davis.

Without hesitation Ross walked up to the closest of the closed doors and touched the dent in the center, with the door opening as soon as his fingers brushed the surface. He walked inside and disappeared from view.

Tyr stepped up behind him and looked inside, then motioned the others forward. Davis followed Rafa in and saw the first two Archons standing in the middle of a giant hologram…apparently not a solid one this time, for Tyr’s head was sticking up above the galactic plane as a swarm of tiny dots representing star positions within the galaxy filled the room with an abundance of ambient light.

Rafa glanced at Davis. “Can you see that?”

“Yes I can,” he said, looking out across the map of the Milky Way. “Find the controls.”

“Pedestal over here,” Ross said from the opposite side.

“See if you can pull up data on specific systems,” Davis asked. All other maps regarding galactic data had been extremely limited. He hoped that this one, in a secure area, might be more forthcoming…but then again he could see it, so he wasn’t sure how hopeful he should get.

“Give me a second,” Ross said, messing with the controls. Suddenly the galaxy map zoomed in on their current star system.

“Whoops,” he said, backtracking. Finding the button he wanted he pulled up a sector by sector highlighter and picked one in closer to the core, in the middle of the deepest outlined V’kit’no’sat territory. Their current position was indeed on the periphery of their territory, barely shaded, marking it as frontier and low priority/low traffic according to the data streams floating above the map that acted as a key.

“Capitol,” he said, pulling up a particular star system. It was a trinary star system with two large, white stars in the center and a red giant orbiting the pair further out. Sitting between them were four planets, with another three solely in orbit around the red giant. None of the planets had any moons, but they were all large and inhabited, based off of population statistics.

“Are you sure?” Davis asked, looking at the stars and planets.

Tyr pointed above the map at empty space. “Neotras.”

Davis recognized the word for ‘capitol’ but he didn’t see what he was pointing at. “Are there icons attached to this map?”

Rafa glanced over at him as if that were a stupid question, for the entire space above the map was filled with text and figures. “Guess you can’t see everything.”

“That allays my concerns,” Davis said, surprising Rafa.

“How so?”

“This map should have additional data that we haven’t been able to access previously. If it was general access I would be able to see it.”

“Well, there’s a wealth of data here,” Ross told him, “with a lot of subcategories that I can pull up.”

Davis glanced between the three Archons. “Don’t suppose I could convince some of you to stick around to transcribe all this?”

Rafa smiled at him. “You kidding? Now that you let us in, we’re never leaving.”

“Ditto,” Tyr agreed.

Davis smiled sheepishly. “I suppose you’ll be wanting to set up a sanctum down here so some of you can stay on station for prolonged periods of time.”

Rafa nodded. “If nothing else, we’re going to want to use the V’kit’no’sat training programs to see how we match up with their troops. They’re bound to have statistics for other users saved somewhere.”

“I thought you might,” Davis said, looking around the room. “Looks like the research team is going to have to rely on you guys to feed them data. I know that’s not your normal duties…”

“We’ll make it work,” Rafa promised.

“Good,” Davis said, nodding. “Now, let’s have a look at the other rooms.”

5

“There,” Jason said, pointing to a specific place in the pyramid’s orbital sensor logs. “Ship arrival, just before all hell breaks loose.”

“ID?” Morgan asked.

“Hold on,” Ryan said, tagging the tiny icon emblazoned on the orbital map. When he did so it enlarged into a schematic with a stream of data attached. “What do you know, Raptors.”

“So they did have help,” Paul said, crossing his arms over his chest as he thought this out. So far all the records they’d reviewed showed a massive Rit’ko’sor ground attack against the temple, coming from where they didn’t know. Earlier records that Star Force had access to showed that the Rit’ko’sor did have a presence on the planet along with the other races, but this was the first evidence that there’d been an external assistance in the brief war that had consumed the V’kit’no’sat colony.

Ryan accelerated the timelapse forward and saw the ship go to ground…then skirt along the surface to another point, hold position for a while, then scoot across to another and another. After a long series of maneuvers it eventually came near the pyramid, and after a long wait took off and departed the system.

 “Looks like it was a torch and burn op,” Sam said as the five Archons continued to piece together the circumstances of the planet’s accidental independence.

“Can you find a map of those other locations?” Paul suggested.

“Think there are other facilities buried somewhere on the planet?” Jason asked.

Paul shrugged. “We have generic population figures, and there’s no way they could all fit in here. I’d like to see if their other structures are as robust as this…I’m guessing not.”

“What if the ship came to pick the Raptors up?” Jason differed. “Those could be rendezvous coordinates.”

“Got something,” Sam said, working a different console beside Ryan. “The last automated maintenance log indicated that the interstellar communications system had gone offline, but only the outgoing feed.”

“Saboteurs inside the pyramid,” Morgan guessed.

Sam nodded.

A new planetary map materialized itself in front of Ryan. “I think I’m starting to get a handle on this interface. If I’m right, this is a deployment map for the armed forces.”

Paul stepped closer, noticing tiny pinpricks across the seven continents…though their shapes were a bit different than present day due to seafloor spreading and contraction. “Try there.”

Ryan zoomed in on the larger icon in the southern half of Africa. “Wow.”

“So that’s what one of their cities look like,” Morgan mewed, looking at the cluster of three distinct types of buildings all arrayed around a central open area that the display tagged as ‘ta’stor irot,’ or ‘landing zone.’

The buildings in the northeast quadrant were the smallest of the three designs, with angled, sharp curves that resembled claws and were thousands in number, spread out in a chaotic arrangement that looked like they’d just built them wherever they liked without any specific layout in mind. Walkways, the size of highways on present day Earth, connected the buildings with crisscrossing lines through the jungle environment that seemed to encompass most of the planet. Those walkways ended at the central landing zone, which covered dozens of square miles, conceivably to accommodate the V’kit’no’sat’s insanely large ships.

On the full southern half of the city an opposite motif was dominant. Neat, grid-like ‘roads’ were laid out in a triangular pattern, each the width of several football fields. There were less of them than their tiny cousins to the northeast, but the sheer acreage covered was much more massive, pressing the southern boundary of the city out in a much larger radius than the other two sectors.

In addition, the buildings in the southern sector were beyond massive. Round, smashed domes, the smallest of them had to be at least half a mile in diameter…with the largest dwarfing the size of the pyramid in which they now stood. One obvious difference, however, was the coloration. The green/black stone that the pyramid was constructed with was not present in the city’s architecture, as Paul had guessed.

The northwestern sector of the city was the most compact of the three, with the towering buildings all interconnected with each other via short tunnels. Their height surpassed the domes of the southern sector by a factor of 5, reminding Paul of the skyscrapers in Chicago and New York, but the V’kit’no’sat version put those cities to shame. Not only were they taller, but they were much wider and conical shaped, giving that sector of the city the look of a bed of needles all pointing up into the sky to impale any ship that dared to land off the assigned grid.

“Rit’ko’sor,” Ryan identified, pointing at the northeast sector, “Oso’lon, and Kret’net.”

“So they do stay segregated,” Paul noted.

“Not so much that they build separate cities,” Jason amended. “Are there any military structures?”

“One,” Ryan said, further zooming in to a small building on the perimeter of the landing zone. It was a squarish building, three tiers high, looking like a brown-colored miniature version of the main pyramid.

“Garrison?” Morgan asked, based on the size.

Ryan tagged the holographic icon above the visual representation of the building and a list of weaponry appeared. “Looks like an anti-air/communications/turret/garrison/command center.”

“Multi-tasking military complex,” Jason summed up. “I have a feeling any square structure is going to be communal, while each race builds their own unique habitats.”

“Does it have a troop manifest?” Morgan wondered.

Ryan tagged a few subservient icons on the list and sorted through various menus. “Now that’s interesting. They have a group of six Era’tran listed along with icons for Rit’ko’sor and Ter’nat.”

Paul frowned. ‘Era’tran’ was the name for Tyrannosaurus Rex, Rit’ko’sor were the Raptors, and Ter’nat was the V’kit’no’sat name for Humans…which meant two of the three didn’t have settlements in the city to live in, unless they shared. “Think they live on base?”

“That’d be my guess,” Ryan said, pulling up files on each of the individuals assigned to the base/outpost.

 “Guys, look at this,” Sam interrupted. “I think I have a structural breakdown.”

“Of what?” Jason asked.

“Their social structure.”

“Finally,” Paul said, stepping around Ryan.

“What exactly have you found?” Morgan asked, less confident.

“Priority list for the planet regarding colonization rights,” he said, pointing to a chart with the symbols for each race arrayed in rows. At the top were two symbols side by side, below them was another one followed by three more. Below that came several more rows, each with no less than 10 equivalent groupings, sprouting dozens of racial symbols in total.

“You said that’s for the planet?” Morgan repeated.

“Yeah, the planetary tag is right here,” Sam said, pointing to the top of the chart.

“That’s helpful, but not necessarily representative of the overall V’kit’no’sat social structure.”

“She’s right,” Jason agreed, “but it gives us a start. So who was tops down here?”

“I don’t recognize that symbol,” Sam said, pointing to the top left, “but that’s Oso’lon.”

“So the T-Rex isn’t tops,” Jason sniped. “Spielberg would be crushed.”

“Ari’tat?” Paul asked, referring to the singular race on the second tier of the chart. The tiny dinosaurs were smaller than Humans, and as far as pure size went, one wouldn’t think they would have had such high standing.

“That is surprising,” Jason agreed, moving his eyes down to the third tier. “Rit’ko’sor, and two others I don’t recognize. Can you pull up a profile?”

“Good idea,” Sam said, looking around the system for how to do that. “This may take a while.”

“Look at this,” Ryan said, pulling their attention back to his console. “The Humans have some type of clan markers in their files, if I’m reading this right. Those that appear to be soldiers are different from the techs, so it’s either a ranking system or biological.”

“Maybe both, if they’re split up into castes,” Paul pointed out.

“I bet that has something to do with the security measures,” Morgan added. “If all of them have access to the pyramid they’d need to restrict database access to those they wanted, hence the access key in the ambrosia.”

“So the others don’t take it, or don’t take as much?” Ryan asked.

“Davis was able to see the ring around the door,” Paul pointed out, “but not the symbol. If everyone took it, but didn’t do the training necessary to increase their dosage, then they’d conceivably be able to see which areas were marked as ‘restricted access’ without being able to enter.”

“The door controls might be set to register a higher amount of ambrosia by touch than is required for the vision augmentation,” Jason added, thinking along the same lines. “And if their Human society is divided into castes or something like it, then information might be withheld that a certain caste wouldn’t need to know about. This is the first access we’ve had to a planetary map, which suggests there is some sort of compartmentalization going on.”

“And we’ve just found out that we’ve had the access key all along,” Morgan commented.

“Access key to 100,000 year old data,” Paul amended. “As valuable as all of this is, who knows what they’ve come up with since then.”

“Or they could have had a technological backslide,” the Acolyte countered. “They’ve never tried to resettle this colony, so something must have happened.”

“I agree with the second part, but not the first. I don’t think we’re going to be that lucky.”

“Neither do I, but they obviously restricted access for a reason, and by some quirky luck we ended up with that access. That’s a masterstroke if there ever was one.”

“More like a massive mistake on their part,” Jason said. “Masterstroke implies that we created the situation, not got lucky.”

“We didn’t luck into our training,” Ryan pointed out.

Jason wavered. “Ok, you have a point there.”

“Access,” Paul repeated. “Do you suppose we’re able to fire the weapons?”

Ryan cringed. “Buried underground with a factory on top of us?”

“I meant…”

“I know what you meant,” Ryan interrupted him. “If we can see the data on the systems then there’s a good chance we can access them…though it’s possible it’s code-locked.”

“I meant could Humans fire the weapons, or was that reserved for the other races.”

“If I had to guess, I’d say we could, based on the way this system is laid out,” Ryan said, searching around a bit.

“Well don’t try,” Morgan scolded him.

Ryan turned around and glared at her. “I’ll be careful,” he scoffed.

“Guys, I think I found something,” Sam said, having brought up the appropriate files on the top ranked race icon that they couldn’t identify. In addition to a myriad of floating text, the hologram resolved itself into the 3D picture of another dinosaur…this one with fins rather than legs.

“Garas’tox,” Paul read aloud. He recognized it as some type of plesiosaur, but couldn’t exactly place it. Obviously a swimmer by the fins, the Garas’tox had a long neck and equally long tail that, when stretched out, resembled a sea snake with a bulbous central body. The only exception was the four limb-like fins and shark-fin stretching out down the center of its back. The head was arrow-like, with rows of tiny teeth that made the creature look as fearsome as a dragon…except this one was real and not a figment of Hollywood’s imagination.

“I thought Davis said there were no water dinosaurs?” Morgan reminded them.

“I guess they don’t interact with the common folk,” Jason said sarcastically, referring to the compartmentalization of information again.

“I’m betting those other two are swimmers,” Paul said, referring to the other unidentified symbols on the third tier, which Sam was now quickly able to confirm, bringing up an image of a hammerhead-like, thick bodied ‘tank,’ followed by a much more streamlined ‘super shark.’

“Earth is a waterworld,” Jason offered. “It would make sense why they’d have a higher priority for colonization.”

“Except there’s no competition between the land and water,” Morgan pointed out. “There’s got to be more to that priority chart than we’re aware of.”

“Just a question,” Paul added, not liking where he was going with this. “But if the Raptors rebelled, how would they kill the swimmers?”

Jason’s mind flashed back to the reports of the large ocean creatures that Star Force had been continually encountering the deeper they expanded their seafloor habitats. “No…”

“I think we need to dig deeper into the battle records,” Paul suggested. “We need to know exactly what happened here.”

Ryan and Sam exchanged glances, then both pushed aside what they were working on and began sifting through the databanks, looking for any data on underwater habitats.

6

July 14, 2112

Paul woke up at the sound of his wristwatch alarm, blinking off the haze of the past eight hours of sleep and sitting up in bed, suddenly remembering where he was as his brain caught up to reality. He climbed out of bed and hopped into the bathroom in the small quarters he’d been assigned in what the pyramid research staff referred to as the ‘hotel.’

Sitting a couple of tiers below the command deck, the hotel was the housing facility that Star Force had built inside the pyramid so the staff could live inside without having to commute back and forth, thus increasing the security of the site. It sat in the northwest corner of what had formerly been the Brat’mar ‘embassy.’ Each of the various races within the V’kit’no’sat appeared to have been given specific sections of the pyramid for their own uses, with the Human levels residing at the apex.

The Brat’mar, or Triceratops, had several larger rooms within their domain at what Star Force had previously believed to have been at about center level within the pyramid. What the ridged, wide open areas were used for hadn’t yet been determined, but it made sense for the hotel to be placed in a central location to facilitate the local commute to their workstations, given that some of them had miles to travel inside the twisting confines to get from one portion of the structure to another.

Shaving then taking a quick shower, Paul readied himself for another long day of exploration and headed over to the cafeteria for a bit of breakfast before meeting up with Jason and several other Archons for a morning run around the command deck. It had been a long flight in that first day, and with all the excitement of new discoveries being unlocked they’d worked right through their normal sleep period and into the next day. As much as Paul wanted to be back out there digging through records and exploring the various chambers he and the others knew that they needed sleep, so he’d resigned himself to getting a good 8 hours in last night.

Normally a light sleeper, Paul hadn’t woke once during the night, underscoring how much he’d needed the rest to defrag his brain. The morning run would help salve their missing training time, as well as let them explore the huge room as they crisscrossed the distances between cushioned pedestals while keeping up sub 6:00 pace. By the time they’d made their first lap Paul and Jason had picked up 22 other Archons following in their wake in a long, single file line. Two other groups were also running the deck at various points, either far behind or far ahead of them, but none of them were ambitious enough to hit the access ramps, given their steep incline and irregular footing.

Paul got in an hour and a half, then broke off to head up to the newly discovered holographic sparring program and give it a try…at the beginner levels. What Rafa, Oni, and Davis had accidentally reactivated was a level 54 program and they were lucky no one had been seriously hurt, for so far their investigations had yet to reveal any sort of safety protocols in the programming.

As much as he wanted to linger there, he knew there was much more to see so he bounced around explored sections of the pyramid, running to and fro to save time in transit and to give him a little bit more of a workout. There were hundreds of rooms at the top of the pyramid that had been reserved for Humans, with the slightly larger Raptors also occupying levels above the command deck along with 4 other ‘small’ races.

The internal structures within the separate ‘embassy’ zones were drastically different, with the Rit’ko’sor construction being choppy and elevated. There were no hallways or pathways that didn’t have perches or stepping blocks jutting out at irregular points, all of which led to other access points. Moreover, the chunk of the pyramid that was reserved for them wasn’t split up into levels like the Human section was, it was broken up into bits and pieces of oddly sized rooms everywhere, resembling a weird cross between a rookery and a hamster cage, right down to the tube-like connective tracks.

The Ari’tat section was accessible to Humans, but only if they liked crawling as much as walking. Their passageways were more traditional, but diminutive. Paul spent about ten minutes working his way around the nearest chambers then gave up, deciding it wasn’t worth getting a crick in his neck just yet when there was so much else to explore.

In stark contrast, the tiers below the command deck held huge architecture to house the embassies of the larger dinosaurs, all of which gained entrance via a series of external doors on the 5th tier that connected directly to the large ramps that led up and down within the pyramid, topping out at the command deck and bottoming out at what Star Force had thought was the pyramid floor on tier 18. Yesterday that assumption was disproven as the Archons were able to open massive floor doors that exposed additional ramps heading further down.

Paul didn’t know much more than that, having gone to sleep as those reports started to come in, but intended to head down there during the afternoon after he checked out the hangar bay where Davis had told him several V’kit’no’sat ships still stood. The bay was also located on the 5th tier, with the smaller upper half having a secondary entrance/exit point on the 4th tier.

He entered on the 5th, which was entirely dedicated to one massive flight deck with 13 ships spread out in the otherwise empty hangar. Ten of them had been partially dismantled, including a ridiculously massive one that Paul recognized as an Oso’lon transport, with some active work crews present in the bay running additional tests while three copies of the smallest ship design appeared to be still intact.

“Impressive, no?” a tech asked as Paul walked up to him as he was pulling a crystal tray from the underside of a medium-sized ship…or so far as Star Force scaling went. For the V’kit’no’sat it was pathetically small.

“Very. Any new insights?”

“Bits and pieces every now and then. Nothing major. These are modular control crystals,” he said, holding up a hexagonal tray with dozens of crystals slotted into it. “Some of their equipment uses these like program uploads. Swap out modular weaponry or other components and likewise swap out part of the computer system. We’ve been trying to build a reader of our own, but so far the best data we’ve been able to pull off of one of these is a basic holding structure. I’m running an upgrade to our sensor against all the different crystal types, hoping we pick up something more from at least one of them, then we’ll go back and try to build a better sensor and repeat ad nausea.”

Paul nodded, understanding the painstaking nature of the work the Star Force researchers were doing with technology far beyond their comprehension. “Mind if I go inside?”

“Help yourself,” he said, waving him towards the port access hatch.

“Thanks,” Paul said, walking down the length of the smooth hull and stepping inside. There wasn’t much room, but there were two distinct sections…a cockpit and personnel bay. Early on this type of ship had been tagged as a ‘gunship’ by the Archons based on the data sent back to Atlantis, but other than basic schematics and other technical jargon, no data regarding the ship’s purpose had ever surfaced. That was, until yesterday.

The secure files they’d been accessing tagged it as a small Human troop transport/cargo ship, designed primarily for atmospheric purposes but also capable of short range space flights, such as out to a planet’s moons and back. It was ill suited for combat against the other V’kit’no’sat races’ ships, but then again that was never a design consideration and it did serve the Ter’nat as a viable and capable gunship in their often one-sided battles against other races within the galaxy, delivering special ops teams behind enemy lines to cause all sorts of mayhem, as well as functioning as a point to point rescue craft.

Paul counted the seats, two rows high. A catwalk passed a foot over his head, functioning as the floor for the second level, accessible by a short, spine-like ladder on either end of the elongated cabin. There were 12 seats on each of the four rows, minus two where the port hatch was, giving the gunship a carrying capacity of 46 plus cockpit crew. He also knew that the seats could be removed, on both levels, along with the catwalk to open the hold up for cargo crates or small equipment pieces, accessible by a rear hatch that otherwise remained sealed as a bulkhead.

All the seats were oversized, which was understandable given the larger size of the Ter’nat. The walkway between the rows seemed small though, and Paul thought the Knights would have had trouble fitting in without kneeing each other. Apparently once the hold was filled people weren’t supposed to be walking around. That certainly clashed with Star Force’s design motif, but Paul understood the tactical significance of stacking as many troops inside as possible to minimize the number of ships necessary to deliver an assault force to any given location.

Paul walked forward and into the bottom half of the cockpit. Above his head was another compartment with a half ladder above his head as the only means of climbing up. He saw three seats on the lower level, situated west, north, and east if the hold were to be considered south. There was barely a square meter of floor space available between the backs of the seats, bracketing him in and furthering the claustrophobic nature of the craft.

He slid into the forward pilot’s seat and ran a hand over the control boards. There were a number of ‘hard’ buttons arrayed for the most basic of tasks along with two rotational handles. From the research reports he knew that the one on the left controlled the lateral spin the craft was capable of in a gravity well. Turning the handle to the right would spin the ship clockwise, left the opposite direction while maintaining its upright position on its anti-gravity engines.

The other handle wasn’t secured on a central pivot point, instead it could ‘float’ around the board a few inches with the direction of the handle always being parallel to the orientation of the ship. The farther one pushed the handle to the right the ship would drift laterally. Forward and reverse worked the same as well as diagonal vectors.

Height over terrain was regulated by a slide lever, while rotation was controlled by a thick icon that represented the ship. Rotating the icon would tip the ship, which apparently did not have to stay upright in order to maintain its anti-gravity lift capability.

There were other controls that handled the primary thrust, which was unrelated to the lifting technology. This allowed the craft to obtain its tactical speed, as well as orbital maneuvering capability, and accomplished it through a series of 6 engine pods half buried into the hull of the ship. An odd-looking joystick that had the ability to rotate the handgrip forward handled the more traditional piloting capabilities for dog fighting or space travel, but the bulk of the pilot’s control systems were currently inaccessible.

Paul fixed that by hitting the cabin power-up button. As a few interior running lights came on, so did the holographic controls which filled the space around his head, boxing him into a small cubicle of light. He resisted powering up any other systems, given the partially dismantled nature of the ship, and settled for a quick work-through of the data systems…most of which were offline, thanks to the removed crystal tray.

He passed his hand through the viewscreen, which superimposed over the forward windows, then tagged the solid hologram to his right, bringing up a navigational program.

“We are so dead if they come back,” Paul muttered, thoroughly impressed. He wished the hangar doors weren’t covered in dirt, otherwise he would have seriously considered taking the gunship out on a short test flight, security concerns or no.

“You think they will, after all this time?” the tech asked, appearing behind him in the hold.

“Sorry, did I disrupt your work?”

“No, no…just saw the lights come on and wondered what you were up to.”

“Just looking around,” Paul said, spinning his seat halfway towards the rear so he could look at the man. “And to answer your question, yes I do, though something has obviously prevented them from doing so all this time. Whenever that changes, I imagine they’ll want their colony back.”

“You a pilot?”

“We all are, among other things. Can you see these holographic displays?”

“Sure. Something wrong with them?”

“No, just wondering if they were security locked. Some of the others in the pyramid are only visible to us, given our ambrosia levels, we think.”

“I heard about that yesterday. The database team nearly flipped their wig when they started to find new access.”

“Well, they can’t see any of it, so we have to translate for them. Frustrating for them, I’d imagine.”

“I don’t think so,” the tech disagreed. “They’ve been trying to hack their way into greater access for years without success. Having to run the information through you guys is a gift by comparison.”

“I hadn’t looked at it that way. I was judging their reactions.”

“How’s your V’kit’no’sat?”

“Ha, well that might be part of the problem. We’ve been learning the language for longer than most of you have been alive and I know some of the lab coats don’t like us having more knowledge in their area of expertise than them.”

The tech frowned. “How old are you anyway?”

“87.”

“Bullshit.”

“Ambrosia plus training,” Paul said, smiling. “Works wonders.”

“You look like a college freshman…not my grandpa.”

“The Ter’nat lived thousands of years.”

“Who?”

“Sorry, that’s what the V’kit’no’sat called their Humans.”

“Thousands of years?”

“Yeah, can you imagine how strong and skilled they could get in that length of time?”

The tech looked around the cockpit. “Must have some damn good pilots then.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Paul said, pointing up.

“Oh, sorry,” the tech said, stepping back into the hold.

“Auxiliary cockpit?” Paul asked, climbing.

“That was the initial theory, but we’ve kind of nixed it. We’re not sure what it is, except that it’s not redundant.”

“What’s the problem?”

“The system’s not responsive, and the hand controls don’t match up to any ship functions we can identify.”

Paul stepped off the hold and walked forward into a small compartment that had a single seat ringed with what looked like double the holograms that the pilot had been enveloped with.

“I think I know what the problem is,” Paul said after sitting down and tagging a few of the icons, accessing the ship’s comm system.

The tech popped his head up the ladder. “What?”

“Can you see these holograms?”

“Holograms?” he asked, climbing up and squeezing in behind Paul’s seat. “We’ve never been able to access any up here. What are you talking about?”

“Can’t see anything?”

“Nope.”

“Try something for me,” Paul said, touching one of the solid holographic buttons and holding his finger in place. “Try to put your index finger next to mine and see if you feel anything.”

The tech frowned but did as he was told.

“What the hell?” he said, feeling something invisible on his fingertip.

“Now pull back an inch.”

The man drew back his finger and Paul did likewise. “Now try again.”

The tech pressed his finger back to the same spot but it passed through as if nothing was there.

“Now that is impressive,” Paul commented. “It becomes solid to my touch, otherwise it’s pass through like the others.”

“I’ll be damned,” the tech said, waving his hand around through the glowing icons that only Paul could see. “What have you got?”

“Comm system came up by default, but there are other options,” he said, digging through the localized computer network using the invisible buttons. “Some of the stuff is offline, probably linked to the components you’ve pulled out, but this appears to be some type of command and control post to link in with other assets in the field. Maybe a combat controller to coordinate ground ops. I also have a fleet interlink prompt that’s blank.”

“One of the crystals I’ve pulled is communications related…I think.”

Paul leaned back and rubbed his chin. “So their pilots aren’t required to take ambrosia. That doesn’t make sense.”

“The ship is also for short range cargo hauling,” the tech reminded him. “Maybe it’s that way so the civilian pilots could fly them.”

“Doesn’t feel right,” Paul said, standing up. “I’m going to go check on something. Nice meeting you…”

“Ericson,” the tech offered, along with his hand before backing down the short ladder.

“Paul,” the Archon said, hopping down once the tech was clear.

“That a first or last name?”

“The only one I have. My full designation is Paul-024.”

“Well, Paul-024, thanks for that breakthrough. More than we’ve learned in years.”

“Happy to help,” he said as the pair left the ship. “Some of us are going to be sticking around a while, so hopefully we’ll be keeping you guys busy.”

“Bring it on,” the tech said, anxious. “This is what we live for.”

Paul bowed slightly. “Challenge accepted,” he offered with a sarcastic smile then jogged off, heading back to find a database access console, knowing that the ones on the deck were mostly limited to the bay functions.

7

“Hey, you need a lift?” a female technician asked as Paul hopped up out of the segmented ramp and onto the command deck.

“Do you know where I can find an unused terminal?” he asked the woman just now climbing onto a beefier version of the Star Force mongoose. It was parked next to two others that apparently weren’t in use, which allowed the researchers to motor across the command deck rather than walk the spanning distances between pedestals.

She frowned, thinking. “One and two are in use, I know, but we might try three. I’m headed off to 27, so I can take the long route and find you one on the way.”

“Appreciated,” Paul said, slipping into the passenger seat next to her.

“Not enough of these around for all you guys, huh?” she asked, accelerating the oversized 4-wheeler down the ‘highway’ marked by a cluster of three painted lines that shot the gap between the two nearest pedestals.

“We don’t mind running,” Paul assured her. They’d deliberately tried to avoid using the limited number of transports to keep from dispossessing the permanent staff…that and he doubted the techs were fit enough to hoof it back and forth on a daily basis.

“So I noticed. How fast can you guys go?”

“Sprinting, most of us can get past 25 miles per hour without breaking a sweat.”

“Miles? You American?”

“Was…haven’t been back there in a long time.”

“I know the feeling,” she said as the lines split and she followed a green one to the right. “Before this place became home, Atlantis was. I haven’t been back to Sweden in a lifetime. What do you need the terminal for?”

“A hunch I want to follow.”

“Concerning?”

“The restricted access. I have a theory I want to check out.”

“Well, you’re certainly making our jobs a whole lot easier. Davis should have brought you guys down here sooner.”

“That’s what we’ve been telling him for decades. What are you working on?”

“Tri-coding.”

“Trinary?” he asked, referring to an alternate form of computer processing, but to his knowledge the dynamics of the V’kit’no’sat computers didn’t look anything like theirs.

“No, sorry. Just a bit of slang. I’m working on the computer coding for the Triceratops systems. Each one is separate and structured differently, to keep others out, we think. It makes any attempt to hack into them insanely frustrating, because if you have a breakthrough in one it won’t carry over to the rest.”

“But they can all get into the restricted files, yes?”

“Seems so, though I don’t quite understand that bit yet. Being able to see what you guys see would help, though.”

“I think a few of you need to devote yourselves to a training regimen to get your ambrosia levels up to the point where you can have access. Davis could make out a little bit, which suggests it might not take that much to be able to access the systems.”

“I heard you were flying others in to check on those levels?” she said as they passed another 4-wheeler going the other way. She waved at the three techs before turning to follow the curve of the line around the perimeter of one of the circular pedestals to the foot of a stairwell. She pulled off and parked next to it.

“If we are I haven’t heard about it, but it makes sense. There are non-Archons on ambrosia at a variety of dosage levels.”

“Have a look,” she prompted, staying seated. “I’ll wait.”

“Thanks,” Paul said, running up the stairs and stopping at the top. He turned back to look at her and waved. “All clear. Thanks for the ride.”

“You’re welcome,” she said, waving back and driving off.

Paul watched her go for a second then turned and walked over to the Human-access console bank off to his left. On his right, more towards the center of the massive pedestal, were metallic pads imbedded into the floor. He’d been told they were some means of dino-access to systems that they hadn’t been able to crack yet, possibly because of a genetic marker they didn’t possess.

He knew that the Ter’nat serviced the larger races, which was why they had access consoles on many of the pedestals, but he wondered how well a four-legged monster could punch computer keys, holographic or otherwise. Vocal input was always an option, but he didn’t think that would be the primary method. He didn’t have a good guess at what the metallic pads were for, other than maybe holographic generators, but he wasn’t going to spend time working on that problem now. He had something else to check.

As soon as Paul got to the Human consoles he accessed the restricted records easily and used the search function Liam had discovered yesterday to look for ambrosia, though that was their word for it. As far as the V’kit’no’sat were concerned it was just a chemical compound with a serial number, which was what Paul searched for.

Fortunately their number system was the same as Earth’s, based on tens, with only the symbols being different. Vocally, zero through nine were: Ex, At, Pa, Tre, Qua, Cho, Ic, Feir, Ren, and Vir, which Paul recited from memory as he input the 12 digit serial number.

It immediately found a match, with a host of stats attached, along with a descriptive text. As he read down through it all his eyes widened.

“Bingo,” he said, identifying the fact that this was an altered version of the stock Human ambrosia. Apparently a group identified as the Zen’zat got the altered version, which was listed as being more concentrated. An addendum noted that there were also small variations in the mixture for ‘security’ reasons.

The V’kit’no’sat word was highlighted as a link, which Paul tapped to bring up a side menu with additional data explaining in detail how the ambrosia altered the user’s physiology enough to enable touch recognition above and beyond the basic genetic locks. It also outlined the visual properties they’d experienced, plus a communications bonus with a lot of vocabulary he couldn’t understand.

Paul tagged the Zen’zat link and brought up the profile on what he had been originally looking for…a subsect of higher ranking Humans.

As he read he felt a headache developing. There were lots of missing terms that made comprehension difficult, plus the glowing nature of the holographic symbols made them bleed a bit, causing one symbol to resemble another if he didn’t look closely. If they had been English letters it wouldn’t have been a problem, but V’kit’no’sat symbols weren’t nearly that familiar to him, so the flash recognition process wasn’t so readily available, meaning he had to concentrate when he was reading as if he was back in 3rd grade all over again.

According to the information before him, the Zen’zat were both the Human leaders and those responsible for serving the other races. The rest of the Ter’nat were isolated into their own holdings.

“They had their own territory?” Paul mumbled as he dug further.

The information wasn’t laid out in an overview of Ter’nat society, which would have been extremely helpful, but he assumed that was less about security concerns and more about cultural common knowledge. Why put into records what everyone knows already?

Because of this fragmentation it took Paul more than four hours to get what he needed to form a basic picture of how the Zen’zat functioned…which then led to answers for many other questions they had, such as why was the sparring program in the secure area of the pyramid. The answer to that lay in the fact that the Zen’zat were the elite Ter’nat warriors, and only they received the equipment and training necessary to bring them up to what the V’kit’no’sat considered ‘par’ for field operations.

All Ter’nat, he discovered, did take ambrosia, but it was the Zen’zat that had the specialized version…and since they served as the inter-racial wing of the Human subsect of V’kit’no’sat society they were based primarily out of the pyramid, which was why the ambrosia stores that Davis had initially recovered from there had held the altered version rather than the generic, which was available through the Ter’nat colonies.

There were none on Earth, however. For whatever reason the Ter’nat had not been given colonization rights. Whether that was standard practice for their status within the Empire or just unique to this planet Paul hadn’t been able to discover, but that did mean that virtually all the Humans on the planet had been Zen’zat and there to service the other races, so no trace of the original ambrosia was produced or imported to the planet.

Furthermore, when the Rit’ko’sor had torched every city on the planet they weren’t looking for any Human settlements, so those survivors that must have become Paul’s most distant ancestors came from the Zen’zat stationed at various colonies around the planet, which the Raptors either missed in their purge or didn’t care to hunt down. Without access to any of their advanced technology or additional ambrosia supplements it was remarkable that they’d survived to repopulate the planet…though Paul didn’t envy the denigration they must have endured.

To go from a space-faring race of superhumans to a collection of primitives suggested chaos and anarchy, with those who had the knowledge unable to pass it on to successive generations. They probably also had to resort to barbarism to survive, given that the foodstuff production facilities had been obliterated by the Rit’ko’sor warship along with every other structure on the planet during the purge, save for the pyramid. Its stone was too resistant to energy weapons to destroy with a single ship, so instead they had flooded it, breaching a number of elevated lakes that surrounded the low region it inhabited and completely covering the structure.

It was air tight, of course, but not only did it cut off access to any potential survivors, it erased it from the landscape, as the Raptors had done with everything else V’kit’no’sat on the planet, including their own cities, before they rounded up all their own and abandoned the frontier colony to continue the rebellion elsewhere.

Had Paul survived that attack he would have made a serious attempt to swim down and gain access to the pyramid, rather than be forced to hunt and kill wildlife to meek out a pathetic existence, though he acknowledged that if no one had survived on the southern continent then the oceans would have kept any other survivors from reaching the pyramid, given that the Raptors had destroyed all aircraft on the planet, along with every other large piece of technology they could find.

That was partially guesswork, Paul admitted, for the pyramid’s records didn’t detail their motivations, only their movements around the planet and a few visuals of the purges recorded by orbiting satellites until they too were destroyed. It had taken the others a long time to compile all that information, but for the first time in Star Force’s existence they had a decent picture of what had happened to bring them to this current point in history.

Like it or not, Earth just wasn’t very important to the V’kit’no’sat. The Rit’ko’sor didn’t care to keep it, and the rest of them had never reclaimed it…though the outcome of that war might have changed things in ways Paul had no way to even guess at. The long range communications relay system had continued to feed information to the submerged pyramid for years after the rebellion on Earth, then the data had suddenly stopped coming in, probably because the nearest relays had been severed but there was no way to be sure. One way or another Earth had been completely cut off and the fate of the V’kit’no’sat Empire was unknown, though Paul seriously doubted that the Raptors alone could have done them in, based off of what he’d already learned of their military and economic strength.

Which meant that Earth was still on the frontier, now populated with renegade Ter’nat who knew nothing of their past, and would be target practice if the V’kit’no’sat, or any of their constituent races returned, given their zero tolerance policy on any independent factions.

However, due to the chaotic nature of the rebellion and purge on Earth, and the lack of a follow up expedition to clean up the mess afterwards, the V’kit’no’sat had left the keys for Ter’nat ascendency behind. They had their independence, which was probably little more than an oversight, but anonymity was probably the best defense any opponent of the V’kit’no’sat could probably have. They also had recovered an intact pyramid, buried as it was at the bottom of an extinct lakebed, with intact databases and larger pieces of technology, some of which Paul still had on his ‘to see’ list.

But now, he discovered with applicable awe, they had also accidentally gained access to their secure systems via the enhanced ambrosia. When Davis’s scientists had originally replicated the compound they had no idea what it contained, let alone the access key to Zen’zat systems, which by nature reached into each and every race they served, as well as detailed military records of which they were an integral part.

To top that off, Ryan had confirmed that they did indeed have access to the firing controls for the pyramid’s weaponry. If they wanted, they could target a ship in orbit and fire right through the factory above them with little affect on the energy beam, the dynamics of which the scientists were just now beginning to scratch their heads over. They’d concluded that it wasn’t a laser and it wasn’t plasma…beyond that they didn’t have a clue what it could be, but the statistics available to them, relayed through Archon eyes, made it easily the most powerful weapon in the star system and probably the only one capable of defending against a V’kit’no’sat attack if they should ever return.

The Ter’nat wouldn’t have had access to those weapons, even if they’d retained possession of the temple, but the Zen’zat did, trusted as they were by their masters and, like it or not, Paul and the others Archons had accidentally inherited that mantle, bypassing the pyramid’s seemingly impregnable computer security measures not by hacking into them, but by training their way into them.

That thought made him smile every time it crossed his mind, knowing how ‘normal’ Humans were lazy enough that even if they had by chance come across the enhanced ambrosia it would have done them no good. Only those who trained at a very high level would gain the concentration necessary within their bodies to gain clearance to Zen’zat areas and tech. According to the records it took newly minted recruits more than a year to absorb enough of the ambrosia to be able to gain access to the doors, and several more years after that to gain computer access.

The fact that Davis had managed a peek at the markings indicating the sealed doors was a feather in his cap, and Paul made a mental note to relay that fact to him the next time they talked, but his utmost respect went to the V’kit’no’sat for designing such an ingenious security protocol. If the Ter’nat didn’t know of the enhanced ambrosia…which by the way the records were written it appeared they weren’t…then they would have been completely incapable of gaining control or data the V’kit’no’sat didn’t want them to have, and even if some of the ambrosia shipments were mixed up, it wouldn’t have an appreciable effect for years to come, and only then if a sufficiently intense training component was added.

“I think we just sucked up our quota of luck for the next millennia,” he said, shutting down the holographic interface and jogging back down the stairs. He ran back to the entrance he’d come from, using the green line as his guide, then headed down the insanely large ramp and back to the ‘hotel’ to get something to eat and find the others.

A group of 13 of them were clustered around two of the tables, swapping stories and intel when Paul arrived. Andy looked up at him as he approached and frowned, sensing something was up.

“What?” he asked as Paul looked down on all of them. The other turned to look at the new arrival when Andy asked the question, pausing their previous conversations.

“Zen’zat,” he said simply. “We have access because the pyramid thinks we’re Zen’zat.”

8

Emily walked up to the massive door on tier 23 and touched the tiny imprint on the center near the floor…which was situated directly underneath a much larger imprint located well above her head and out of reach. As soon as her ambrosia laden fingers touched the stone-like material the door bisected along an invisible seem, cutting the circular dent in half as either side retracted into the walls.

“Now that’s interesting,” Megan said from beside her as large metallic skeletons were immediately visible inside what was a cavernous room, far bigger than most they’d been exploring in the sub tier 18 region that had been previously inaccessible to the research team.

“Exoskeletons?” Emily guessed as they walked inside the well lit fitting area and into the wide, dino-sized walkway that separated the nearest two rows of crane-like apparatus holding the skeletons in place. Off to the left and right were more rows, filled with all sizes and makes of the technology.

“These aren’t listed in the database files,” one of the three techs accompanying them stated as she looked around, using a head-mounted camera to take visuals for analysis at a later time.

“Not surprising since they’re in a secure area,” one of the other techs pointed out.

“Multiple races,” Megan added, “and we saw some of the Raptors wearing them in the assault on the pyramid.”

“I don’t see anything that small here,” Emily said, squinting to try and make out the furthest ones away, visible only through the mess of metallic structures cluttering the bay floor. From what little she could see of the far wall, there weren’t any small scale stations.

“Big boys’ hangout then?” Megan guessed.

“Looks like it…wait, no, I see something in the middle. Two somethings, actually.”

“Got it,” Megan said, searching for more of what looked like Human access stations…which would make sense, given that the door had an access point for them as well. She began walking off in that direction along with Emily, while the techs had to hustle to keep pace behind them.

On their way to the closest station they walked underneath one of the metallic spines that stretched out more than 100 meters, resplendent with a helmeted head and ‘ribs’ coming out at random points along the length of the construct, but it had no legs…as if, whatever it was for, it was worn as some type of backpack on one of the long necked dinosaurs.

In another section of the bay they could see different sized skeletons, and some of them did have legs…two legs jutting down from a spine segment that had both a helmet and tail cap. Another had a split skeleton, running two spines laterally with a large open area in the center, connected between helmet and tail cap.

“Battle armor?” Emily guessed as they approached the station.

“With all the exposed area?” Megan differed.

“Shield emitters?”

Megan hesitated in giving an answer, then swung around behind the inside of the control booth that was a bisected circle containing two 180 degree arcs separated by a narrow walkway that provided entrances on either side. “Let’s find out.”

The control panel responded to her touch and a flurry of holograms arose above the keyboards, detailing three distinct sets of skeletons. Megan tagged one of the long-neck versions with her index finger and it superimposed over the others, offering more detailed schematics. The word ‘shomul’ac’ appeared on a small floating button beneath the hologram, prompting a lip-biting grimace as the Archon tried to figure out what they were looking at. The V’kit’no’sat word meant ‘deployed,’ but what there was to deploy she didn’t know so after a few fruitless seconds of thinking she decided to tap the button and find out.

“Told you,” Emily said, thoroughly impressed. The holographic image of the skeletal construct mechanically expanded, branching out to cover a much larger area with spider web-like connecting ribs that outlined the full body shape of an Oso’lon. Once that grid was in place, the empty spaces in between filled in with material until the entire suit of armor was complete from head to tail.

“Just like the regenerators,” Megan said, referencing the medical devices that would alter their shape to fit the patient. They had flowed as if liquid metal…and the holographic schematic had moved in an eerily similar manner.

“I doubt these are medical equipment,” a tech told the Archon.

Megan glanced back at the man. “Duh.”

He frowned. “I only meant…”

“This is all military,” Emily cut him off, “or at least has a military aspect. They could be construction or environmental suits too, but we definitely saw them being used as armor during the battle.”

“Which is probably why this bay is located in a secure area,” Megan added, beginning to search through the local database. One of the first things that popped up was a maintenance log, with the most recent entry flagged. She brought it up and read through a brief account of a suit being damaged from some type of physical impact…she couldn’t identify the vocabulary used…and the repairs that had to be instituted, which began with them having to cut the Era’tran free in the field. They’d hauled the deployed armor back inside and set to work micro-repairing the connective structure enough to get the pieces to finally retract.

An update to the log indicated that some sort of reprogramming had been scheduled, along with replacement parts ordered, but that was the last entry. Apparently the local rebellion had occurred prior to the repair work being completed.

“Don’t supposed you can see any of this either?” Emily asked the techs.

All three shook their heads ‘no.’

“Alright, start taking notes,” Megan said, sifting through the interface to try and find a root menu to start them with.

 “What did you find?” Paul asked, returning to the command deck on Jason’s request.

“Plenty,” his friend said, staring at a detailed inventory list in holo. He shifted it aside with a few button presses and brought up the planetary map that they’d all grown accustomed to using the past couple days. He zoomed in on tropical Antarctica and the surrounding regions prior to the rebellion, which Paul noted due to the presence of the lakes that had been later drained to cover the pyramid.

“Not fish ponds,” Jason said, highlighting several submerged buildings. “These were specifically built for the swimmers and connect to the base of the pyramid,” he said, shifting the hologram into a 3D schematic of the mammoth building with the bottom portion highlighted. “All five base tiers belong to the swimmers.”

Paul looked closer, then reached over Jason and adjusted the hologram, zooming out slightly. “What are these nubs?” he asked, pointing to little dots lining the underground tunnels.

“They’re air breathers, like us. Lungs, not gills. Those spots are air pockets.”

“There are more tunnels,” Paul pointed out, seeing five extra large versions located at a lower depth than the others that connected to the surrounding lakes.

“That’s where it gets interesting,” Jason said, zooming back out until they could see all of the southern continent. With the tap of a few buttons the underwater highways became visible, connecting to five locations around the perimeter of the continent, giving the swimmers access to the oceans.

Another few button presses and underwater infrastructure was highlighted at each connection point, as well as others within a few hundred miles out into the ocean surrounding each ‘port.’

“How do they get there?” Jason said as Paul began to speak, anticipating his question. “These bigger tunnels are actually split into two segments. The top segment flows out, the bottom one flows into the pyramid.”

“Flows?”

“More like squirts, but use whatever word you want. Point is the current carries them along at insane speeds, faster than any of our bullet trains or aircraft.”

“Have we gotten into the basement yet?”

Jason shook his head. “No, the search teams are being methodical and cataloging the top ones first. In a couple of hours I’m going to jump ahead of them and see what’s down there. Wanna come with?”

“Dumb question.”

Jason smiled as he adjusted the hologram again. “I haven’t got to the best part yet. Earlier I was studying the orbital traffic records going back to the founding of the colony, and you’d be surprised at some of the types of ships that showed up for the construction. Massive things, plus a lot of others that look like something straight out of a bad scifi film. I couldn’t even guess at the functionality of some of the designs, so I’m figuring they must be some sort of aesthetic. That’s not the point though. When I input some search parameters I accidentally scrolled to the last contacts detected and found this…”

Jason pulled up the telemetry data again, showing 16 bulbous ships in orbit. “Look at the timestamp.”

Paul’s eyes flicked over to the V’kit’no’sat numbers. “Someone came to check up on the colony?”

“That was my first thought until I played through their tracking data,” he said, bringing the same up on the screen and running it through a pretagged loop at accelerated speed. “They weren’t coming, they were leaving.”

Paul stared in awe as the 16 ships lifted off from beneath the ocean’s surface and flew over to the pyramid, then headed up into space, eventually leaving the star system. “I guess that answers that.”

“About there still being some around? Yeah, I don’t think that’s the case. I’d guess the Raptors couldn’t get to them under water so they torched what they could from the air and left, but that included the entrances to the underwater highways. They dug down into the land just off the ocean and destroyed them. I’m assuming the ships came out to the pyramid to pick up survivors that got trapped on the other side.”

“Water filled ships, huh?”

“It gets even better,” Jason promised.

“Go on.”

“I think the swimmers are in charge.”

Paul frowned. “How so?”

“Well, this colony’s priority chart indicates that they’re towards the tops, but we were figuring that was because this was a waterworld. Now I’m not so sure. I did a search upstairs for information about other V’kit’no’sat worlds and found some interesting patterns of racial deployment.”

“You couldn’t access it down here?”

“If there’s a way to enlarge these holos I haven’t found it yet, so using the map room is a lot easier…plus I had some help and there’s a lot more legroom up there.”

“Point taken. What patterns?”

“Shared worlds. As far as colonies go, most are either binary arrangements or solos. They don’t share a lot, but wherever the swimmers are there are dozens of races on the same planet. I couldn’t find a single world that only had swimmers, even a few true water worlds with only a trace amount of land still had dozens of enclaves on them. There was even one with no land at all and four other races had built their own version of Atlantis to give them some living space.”

“There’s more,” Jason said before Paul could ask another question. “I did a similar search for patterns amongst the ground pounders and flyers. The Oso’lon are in the same boat as the swimmers. Where they go, others go. I couldn’t find a single Oso’lon only colony, and in more than 80% of the cases the Oso’lon and swimmers occupied the same worlds.”

Paul thought for a moment while Jason waited for him to catch on. “Longnecks?”

The Archon nodded. “For whatever reason, the longnecks appear to be dominant.”

“Have you found priority charts for any other colonies?”

“Yes, and the pattern holds with a few exceptions,” Jason said, pulling out the planetary holo until it became a system-wide view, then he input some hard key strokes and it suddenly shifted to a different star system, then he zoomed back in on another planet, this one with no visible water on it.

A few seconds later he had the priority chart for a world named ‘Kikkorop’ floating in front of Paul for his inspection.

“No swimmers, and the Oso’lon are second tier,” Paul noted. “Behind the Hjar’at.”

“Now look at the population statistics.”

Paul watched as the planet came alive with tiny dots representing numerical numbers of the inhabitants. A few Oso’lon blue dots dominated one city, while a few yellows and reds were clustered elsewhere, but all across the planet’s grasslands green dots were present in the thousands.

“It’s a Hjar’at world,” Paul guessed.

“It might even be their homeworld,” Jason guessed. “I can’t confirm that yet, but it would make sense that the home race would have more pull on their own turf than any other faction.”

“Where do the flyers fit in?”

“That’s another interesting point,” he said, sending the holo back to Earth and highlighting a few scattered cities. “The I’rar’et are the only flyer race present in this colony, but I’ve found three others, and Ryan found another one this morning. They appear mid level at best, and never in the top three tiers on any of the worlds we’ve looked at…though our sample size is proportionately very, very small.”

“I’m not sure which is harder to pronounce, I’rar’et or Pterodactyl.”

“There is another larger race called the Les’i’kron. They were not on Earth at any time, I checked through the entire timeline record and they never appear, but I think you’ll find them very familiar.”

Jason brought up a profile on the larger flyer race and looked at Paul for his reaction.

“Son of a bitch,” he whispered.

“That was my reaction too,” Jason said, glancing back at the image of a thick, but lean body supporting massive wings and a medium-length neck, on which sat a squarish head that reminded him more of a T-Rex than anything else, though even the Era’tran couldn’t match the sheer fear factor that the ugly face imposed. The Les’i’kron also had a thin, long tail that ended in a bony, double fin that probably functioned like a rudder in flight…or as a blade in combat.

But as alien as the creature looked, it was the spitting image of a dragon from medieval lore.

“That wingspan is bigger than the Mantis’s that we flew in on,” Paul noted.

“And yet these guys seem to have very few colonies, though their numbers are greater on the more densely packed worlds. There are millions of them on the V’kit’no’sat capitol.”

“Remind me to take that off our vacation hit list,” Paul said sarcastically. “You said there were five flyers?”

“So far. The database doesn’t have a comprehensive list to search through, so we’re having to find them through links from other data. A bit odd, but then again nothing in here is structured the way you’d expect. It’s functional, once you get used to the layout, but it’s no Wikipedia Gold.”

That comment caused Paul to have an epiphany. “Has anybody stumbled onto any training programs for children?”

“Not that I know of, why?”

“Maybe these systems aren’t comprehensive, and only data that isn’t widely known is logged. Having a list of races is pointless when you already know their names and can search directly for each one.”

“A bit egotistical assuming everyone will already know and remember,” Jason said, catching himself. “Right…forgot who we’re dealing with here.”

“Add in the compartmentalization and there’s no reason to give easy access menus and lists to help people find stuff that they should either already know about or not have access to.”

“An insiders system,” Jason summed up. “That makes sense, especially considering that I can’t find so much as a floor plan for the swimmer sections of the pyramid. Either I’m missing it or what they’ve got down there isn’t something the rest of the pyramid needs to know about.”

“You really want to wait a couple hours?”

Jason hit a button turning off the hologram. “Not really,” he said, smiling. “Let’s go.”

9

There were no doors blocking access to the lower tiers of the pyramid as there had been on the bottom of tier 18, but the ramps did end prematurely, spilling out into another large chamber that mimicked the dimensions of the command deck. It was smaller, by far, and had large pools replacing most of the pedestals, but the overall feel was the same.

“There’s still water in them,” Paul commented as they walked inside and over to the nearest of the artificial ponds that sat on the border between the water pads and the land pads. “The pyramid must be replenishing the water somehow, or else it’d evaporate away.”

“Doesn’t feel humid either,” Jason added, looking down into the crystal clear water and sighting several connective tunnels in the cliff-like walls of the pool. “You think the lower tiers are all submerged?”

“Gotta have air pockets somewhere,” he reminded him. “And if they used Ter’nat to service this area there’s got to be access corridors somewhere.”

“Alright, let’s start looking,” Jason said, breaking into a run to save time. Paul followed him as they wove their way through the padded pedestals and around the ponds, searching the massive chamber.

It took them more than half an hour before they finally found what looked to be an exit shaft in the opposite wall, Human sized, that looked totally out of place. Nothing was nearby it, save for ponds, and all the lower sections of the pyramid had dino-sized doors…which begged the question, where and what did it lead to?

Paul went in first, traveling down a very narrow hallway that would barely have allowed him and Jason to stand shoulder to shoulder if they tried, but like the rest of the Human architecture the ceiling was high, allowing for the taller Ter’nat. The claustrophobic tunnel ran straight for more than 50 meters before exiting into a slightly larger crossing tunnel that ran parallel to the wall of the secondary command deck.

“Access shafts?” Paul guessed.

“Looks like,” Jason agreed. “Right or left?”

“Right.”

Jason headed that way without further comment and they followed the once again ovoid tunnel past several connective hallways, checking out each as they passed. Most dead ended into specialized rooms with stacks of crates or equipment, while a few appeared to be dormitories, apparently so the Zen’zat in this area wouldn’t have to make the trek down from the top of the pyramid on a daily basis.

After they’d searched 16 of the offshoots they finally found one that led to a staircase that descended lower in the pyramid. Taking it they climbed down and down, as far as they could until it bottomed out at what they guessed was tier 30, though it was hard to know for sure. They walked across a small landing and then out through a door that had a partition in the central compartment that blocked the view coming directly through. Paul passed through the open doorway, turned left and walked around the tip of the divider, then back right and out through the second doorway, whistling appreciatively at the view.

“That’s some fish tank,” Jason agreed as they walked out through the clear tunnel that led across the bottom of a huge, water-filled chamber. He felt like a hamster in a tube, but was glad that the material was keeping the monstrous amount of fluid from crashing in on him. The view was so clear and the water so pristine that they could see everything everywhere, with dozens of tunnels crisscrossing the interior, not only along the floor where they were now, but rising up at angles and intersecting with higher ones, making for a navigational hazard for the swimmers that would have concerned the Archons had there actually been anyone left swimming around in the tank. He didn’t know strong the material was, but a collision seemed like it could be disastrous.

Along the floor were clear domes with wide openings and tunnels connecting to them. In fact, everything down here appeared to be transparent material, save for the walls that appeared bone white, giving the entire place an eerily synthetic feel to it that was in stark contrast to the stone-like construction of the rest of the pyramid.

As they walked they looked up towards the ceiling, spotting several faint dots in the distance that they guessed were the connective tunnels coming down from the ponds on the second command deck, which would mean that the entire bottom base of the pyramid was one giant, water-filled chamber…at least as far as they could see. Everything was brightly lit with white light, but there were so many domes on the ground and connective tunnels going every which way that they couldn’t see the far walls, wherever they actually were.

“We could be in here a while,” Jason said, still in awe at the grandiose design. Given that the base of the pyramid was wider than the top, the dimensions of this underwater chamber had to be larger than even the primary command deck.

“A mongoose would be nice right about now,” Paul thought out loud.

“A bit bumpy on the stairs, but yeah, it would.”

“Back to running?”

“After you,” Jason said, following his friend down the clear tunnel until they came to the first branch, then hung a left to head a quarter mile down an offshoot towards one of the domes.

“Dead end?” Paul asked when they came to a closed door.

“Hardly…probably an airlock to keep the tunnels from flooding,” Jason said, looking the door over as they approached. “If the swimmers have to breathe, then I bet the domes have air inside.”

“Good, because I don’t feel like swimm…” Paul said as the door suddenly opened on its own in front of them, revealing a slightly shimmering energy field in its place.

“That’s new.”

“If that’s what’s holding the air in,” Paul said, stopping short of actually touching the field.

Jason did reach out a hand and touched the crystal-like field…but his hand pushed right through, feeling a bit tight on the other side. He pulled it back and flexed his fingers. “Just stops the air, apparently.”

“After you.”

“After me,” Jason echoed, closing his eyes as he walked through. He was hit with an immediate wave of tight, moist air, realizing that the pressure was higher given to the compacting effect of the water above them. He took several long breaths, letting himself adjust, then waved Paul through.

When the other Archon entered and they walked a few steps down what was left of the tunnel, the solid door behind them closed again.

“Air pressure is high,” Paul commented. “And warm.”

“Guess they like the heat. All the worlds I’ve seen them with colonies on have been tropical at minimum.”

“How many swimmers are we up to now?”

“With the two that Sam found earlier today, that puts us at 14 total, 8 here.”

“So, 83 overall, if you count Humans,” Paul said, doing the math as they walked out of the open ended tunnel and onto the dome’s arc-like half ring of ‘land’ that surrounded a shallow lagoon split up into sections by low, submerged bumps, beyond which was the deep water half of the dome that connected down and out to the rest of the water world by a subsurface access duct. All together, the dome was the size of a football stadium.

“Sleeping chamber?” Jason asked.

“No clue, buddy,” Paul answered, spotting another of the Zen’zat computer consoles that seemed to be everywhere within the pyramid. “Let’s have a look.”

“Hey,” Jason said, pointing down into the nearest of the lagoon nooks. Paul followed his finger line until he noticed several shiny discs on the bottom…same as the ones they’d found on the pedestals on the command deck and elsewhere.

Paul slipped behind the small ‘desk’ and powered up the holographic interface, finding a list of items being the last thing that whoever had worked this console had been viewing 100,000 years ago.

He pushed it aside and brought up the main menu, then dove into the specialized files for this location…which were many. In fact, it seemed like there were twice the amount of menu items available as there had been on the upper tiers of the pyramid. Jason immediately noticed that too.

“Race specific data?”

“Or more compartmentalization,” Paul suggested, bringing up the information on this particular dome. “Communications hub?”

“Look there,” Jason said, pointing at the schematic. “Another force field to keep the water out.”

“It’s not out, though.”

Jason snapped his fingers as he caught on. “Air pressure. It keeps the water from making it too dense in here. Either for us or this is the pressure they prefer to breathe at. A lot of their worlds are higher gravity, so it would make sense that this is the norm for them.”

“Here we go, Dino email,” Paul’s face scrunched up as he started to read one of them. “Love letters?”

“Really?”

“No,” Paul said deadpan.

Jason punched him in the shoulder, thoroughly had.

“It’s an information request to the Oso’lon asking for updated reports on the Rit’ko’sor rebellion, specifically which clans were involved,” Paul said, reading further. “It looks like they were concerned that the fighting could find its way out here and wanted to verify whether or not their Raptors were kin to the traitorous sects or not. Apparently their knowledge of the Rit’ko’sor social structure was limited, because there’s an addendum to the original message asking for a structural overview so they could better make use of the original data they’d been given.”

“Never took the time to get to know their underlings?”

“Sounds that way,” Paul agreed.

“I’m surprised we even have access to their messages.”

“I…think that’s because the Zen’zat transmitted it for them. There’s a list of what look like official emails rather than personal ones.”

“Personal assistants?”

“Pretty much…and they never logged out.”

Jason made a ‘tisk, tisk’ sound. “You can get fired for that sort of thing.”

“I think running for your life from a hoard of angry Raptors might make for a legitimate excuse.”

“The V’kit’no’sat strike me as more of a ‘zero tolerance policy’ sort of group,” Jason said sarcastically. “Besides, do you really think they got down here? Unless they go for a swim there’s not much fighting they could do, and it’d be a tight fit for them in the tunnels.”

“More likely they got called up top to fight and just left their workstations where they were.”

“Well then, that’s not abandoning their post, it’s following orders. Perfectly acceptable workplace behavior when the bosses are getting their asses kicked.”

“Still hard to believe they pulled it off.”

“The warship helped, I’d imagine.”

“True,” Paul admitted. “But the little ones taking out all the others…they couldn’t have seen that coming.”

“The element of surprise is highly underrated.”

Shifting aside the communications data Paul went back to the main menu and brought up a schematic of the underwater levels…something that hadn’t been available in detail up top.

“It is one big room,” Jason said, studying the new hologram. “With subdivisions.”

“Different races, different billets,” Paul said, locating their position on the map. “We’re in a Sess’nat dome.”

“Sess’nat?”

“Sort of a shell-less turtle, shiny scales.”

Jason frowned, then his memories realigned. “Right,” he said, getting confused with so many new races being added to their list.

“I remember because they have four subgroups,” Paul said with a smile that Jason couldn’t place.

“I didn’t take that close of a look,” he admitted.

“Greg decided to nickname them the Leonardos, Michelangelos, Donatellos, and Rafaels.”

Jason burst out laughing.

Paul pointed to a different section on the underwater map when he managed to clear the smile off his face. “Garas’tox section is here. I say we hit that then head back up. It’ll take us weeks to search through everything down here.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Jason said, heading back to the airlock. Paul powered down the console and followed him.

“Donatellos,” Jason whispered when they pushed their way back through the atmospheric field and resumed their exploratory run.

“I know,” Paul said, snickering. “Wish I’d thought of it first.”

10

July 19, 2112

Paul unshouldered his duffle bag and handed it to a Star Force tech as a gentle shower of snowflakes fell on the rooftop landing pad of the foodstuff factory. The man hurried off to tuck it into the waiting Mantis’s cargo compartments as Greg and Jason waited with the unofficial fleet commander for the other Archon leaving Antarctica.

They weren’t the first to go. Four others had already left even as the first construction crews began arriving to build a new sanctum within the pyramid itself. Others were scheduled to leave later in the week, and still others were staying around on an indefinite basis. The long term plan was to keep at least one of the trailblazers on site at all times with a handful of other Archons to assist with the secure access research while the others would rotate in and out as they chose.

None of them wanted to go…the pyramid was like a giant amusement park for them to explore and with the various training chambers they’d discovered there were challenges galore for them to sink their teeth into, but Paul and a few of the others were needed back in the field sooner rather than later, with Davis having been the first of them to leave.

“If and when they can get a working prototype we’re going to need more numbers,” Greg pointed out, carrying on a running conversation they’d been having the past few days.

Paul nodded. “They say it won’t be anytime soon, but I’m already making plans. Our best bet is Epsilon Eridani, if we can confirm the clear routes in through the dust cloud.”

“No Ross 248?” Jason asked, giving the Earth classification of the nearest star system with a habitable planet according to the pyramid’s databanks.

“Not for the big push, no,” Paul said, seeing Morgan coming up out of the factory to join him on the flight back to Atlantis. “Too cold, plus Eridani has multiple habitable planets in addition to Corneria. The extra distance and restricted approach vectors may be a headache, but it’s our best option for significant expansion.”

“Are we bypassing the others then?” Greg asked.

“No, no. We’re grabbing up everything we can get, but we’re not going to go full bore to colonize an ice cube,” Paul said as Morgan handed her duffle off to the waiting tech and joined the group.

“Did I hear you say Corneria?” she asked with a devious smile.

“Yes you did,” Paul said, holding a steady gaze.

“It already has a name, you know.”

“It has a catalog number,” Paul corrected her. “Besides, no reason we have to let the V’kit’no’sat name everything. 50 light years out and their survey ends, so we’ll have to be naming those anyway.”

“Getting a bit ahead of ourselves,” Morgan pointed out.

“Doesn’t hurt to plan ahead,” Greg said, coming to Paul’s defense.

“We haven’t finished colonizing this star system yet,” Morgan reminded him. “And we have no way of getting to another one.”

“That’s what we were discussing,” Jason said. “We found some additional schematics that should help the techs with the gravity drives. Sort of an ‘Idiots guide to star travel’ that the Ter’nat had in their racial files.”

“Given to them?” Morgan asked.

“Looks like it,” Paul answered. “It’s old data, but was probably given to them at some point so they could start constructing their own ships.”

“I thought Cora said all their ship production was done at other races’ shipyards?”

“Not quite true…all Ter’nat shipyards are paired with others, for oversight purposes, but they have to build their own tech.”

“I stand corrected then. How long do you think it’ll take to get a functional prototype?”

“Decades, minimum,” Paul said with a mixture of anticipation and regret. “Even the basics are still over our heads, but we have something to gear our research towards now. If and when that day comes we need to have a plan already in place, which is what we were discussing.”

“Sure you don’t want to stay?”

“Can’t,” Paul said, grinding out the word. “Got a fleet to run, training to do, Acolytes to catch.”

“Ha, good luck,” Morgan said, slapping him on the shoulder as she walked off towards the Mantis. “It’s cold out here. I’ll give you some pointers on the trip back.”

Paul rolled his eyes as she walked off, but didn’t follow her. “One other thing, Ryan and I did some more digging. Turns out the swimmers sent a deactivation signal to the pyramid as they were leaving, ordering it to power down. That’s why everything was off when Davis originally found it.”

“Not everything,” Greg pointed out.

“I meant via sleep mode, not a power off.”

“Well that answers that question,” Jason said, referring to one of the last bits of the mystery surrounding Humanity’s origins on Earth. “Has Lens reported back yet?”

“Not yet,” Greg said, having kept in contact with the Archon responsible for their underwater operations. After discovering that the swimmers had infrastructure underneath the ocean that the Rit’ko’sor couldn’t get at, he’d been the first to head back to Atlantis in order to start an expedition to find, secure, and reclaim those locations for Star Force use. “They can’t travel that fast, so it’ll take at least another week.”

“Don’t suppose any of those super-squirters are still operational?”

“We know the ones to the mainland were knocked out, but the rest might be salvageable. Lens wants them, but wasn’t going to hop right in. He was concerned about bashing his ships against the sidewalls during transit and wasn’t sure how they avoided the problem.”

“He’ll want to set up his own network if they can get the bugs worked out, I assume?” Paul asked.

“If he can, it’ll expand our underwater colonies exponentially.”

“Paul, let’s go!” Morgan yelled from the back of the open Mantis.

Paul waved distractedly at her, but kept his focus on Greg and Jason. “How’s he set for Europa?”

“Game as always, but they’re having some trouble adapting to the cold,” Greg told him. “He thinks it’ll be another few years before we can transition to manned vessels.”

Paul nodded as another Mantis, this one a heavy model, slowed to a hover over a nearby landing pad and slowly dropped down to the surface. In the distance he could see several others approaching through the snow, carrying more of the construction supplies for the new sanctum…which also meant his Mantis needed to clear the pad.

“Better get going,” Jason suggested.

“I’ll get that personnel manifest to you by the end of the week,” Greg promised.

“I’ll hold you to that,” Paul said, backpedaling towards the boarding ramp. He threw his fellow Archons a two-fingered salute then jogged up the ramp and into the personnel compartment where Morgan and three support personnel were waiting.

“You are way too chatty,” she chided him as he sat down next to her. She handed him a datapad as the boarding ramp closed and the pilot lifted the small Mantis off the pad and accelerated away from the factory and back towards Atlantis.

Paul grabbed the pad and activated the external feeds, watching a heavy Mantis take their pad and begin to offload supplies and personnel before the snow obscured the camera view.

“You’ll be back again,” Morgan promised.

“Not for a while. I’m heading back to Venus and it looks like things are going to be accelerating from this point on. I’m going to have to leave the playground to the rest of you.”

“Not me. I’ve got work to do too.”

“Gotta keep pushing the limits so the rest of us can’t catch up?”

“Always. I’m still camping out at the main sanctum, but I’m trying to train an Archon strike force using only the second gen. I’ve got 53 going through preliminary drills. Hopefully at the end I’ll have three or four I can work with.”

“Strike force?”

“They need the help, and I was feeling generous. I’m basically trying to replicate one of our teams using my experience in place of the ingenuity they don’t have.”

“53, huh?”

“And?”

“They volunteer?”

“Yeesss,” she said with a strained voice.

“Oh, I’d love to watch that,” Paul said, cracking a smile. “They have no idea what they’re in for.”

“I’m starting them off slow. The point is to teach them, not break them…yet.”

“You’re all heart, Morgan.”

“Kurt and Will are doing the same thing,” she protested.

“Ah ha! That explains it. Gotta be number one and have the best team.”

“You’d be doing the same if you weren’t stuck off planet,” Morgan pointed out.

Paul considered that. “True. Is it just the three of you?”

“For now, but we’re getting so many new Archons that we don’t have enough field assignments for them and they don’t know what to do with themselves.”

“Train,” Paul said pithily.

“We would, but they’re not us. They need a competitive focus, so we’re going to start developing one.”

“Competitions?” Paul asked, his curiosity involuntarily spiking anytime that subject came up.

“Right now it’s experimental, to see if we can get them up to where we used to be before we all split up, but the theory is to split apart into ‘clans’ and battle it out to keep each other sharp.”

“Clans?”

“A la Battletech,” Morgan explained.

“Just hand to hand?”

Morgan hesitated. “I hadn’t thought about extending it further, but there’s no reason we couldn’t include pilots…and of course the mechs. Huh, I had a better idea than I thought.”

“Naval too.”

Morgan smiled. “Want a piece of the action?”

“I think we all will if this is going where I think it is.”

“A little side project in our spare time?”

“100 teams?”

“One for each of us…oh, I think I like that. Annual competitions? No, that’s too often. We can have team to team matchups periodically, but getting everyone together at the same time would be problematic. We can station each team out of the sanctums, which will keep people on hand in case of emergencies.”

“I can put one together on Venus easy enough. Think I’ll grab some volunteers on my way back there.”

“Alright, Khan Paul, let’s set this up formal like.”

“I think I liked Admiral better,” he said, blanking his datapad so he could begin filling it with notes as his head likewise filled with ideas. Competition had always been an essential part of their training, yet it had been lacking in any formal format since they’d graduated from their basic training. “Hand to hand, flying, naval, and mechs?”

“Lens will want aquatics too.”

“Not exactly my area of expertise,” Paul said, adding the fifth category.

“Which will force us to adapt,” Morgan said gleefully.

Paul smiled. “Point. We’re going to need more simulators in the sanctums, and predetermined challenges for the hand to hand…”

From there on the two Archons went on a nonstop planning binge for the entire trip back to Atlantis, then spent another three hours together setting up the logistics of their first ‘Clans,’ with Paul choosing the name Saber and Morgan electing to tag her already existing group Clan Ninja Monkey.

Paul bust out laughing when she told him that, but after a stiff forearm to the chest and a moment to think about it he admitted it was a good choice, even if it was a bit humorous. Then again, his Clan Saber moniker might also elicit some laughs when they saw that their symbol was going to be three crossed lightsaber blades.

He knew that those two names, as well as a host of other things they’d incorporated into their plans were going to spark a friendly, but intense internal war between the trailblazers…and he was eager to get a head start on the rest of them.

When Morgan and him finally split up Paul didn’t hop the first flight back to Venus, instead he headed across the ocean floor to their main sanctum that held more than 5,000 Archons in various stages of training. Given that Morgan had already chosen her core group, but had done so on the basis of a strike team, that meant the best flyers, mech pilots, naval commanders, and the limited aquatics specialists were as of yet unclaimed.

Grinning from ear to ear Paul started sorting through their rosters, selecting the ones he wanted. The naval officers were easy to choose, given that he’d trained them all…but to be fair he didn’t snag all the top talent, picking two he knew were among the best then selecting a few younger Archons that showed good potential, giving him 5 there.

Then he went and selected 8 pilots, choosing them based on their attitudes as much as their training scores. A few had field experience, which was a plus, but he was more interested in choosing individuals that would fit into this overall plan for Clan Saber. With those he wanted added to his roster he went through the much harder task of choosing aquatics specialists.

Lens had the best ones working with him in the field, so there weren’t many stationed in the sanctum for Paul to scoop up and take back with him to Venus before the others had a chance to object, so he had to pick through what limited scores were available. Only 58 individuals even had an aquatics ranking, so Paul picked two of them and was looking for a third when an epiphany struck him.

He pulled up the files on all of Lens’s people, then started to stereotype them as much as he could, looking for trends in their other scores and eventually getting some partial results after two hours of study. Taking those, he selected 9 individuals he thought could be trained into the aquatics discipline by the experienced pair…and himself once he brushed up on Lens’ field notes.

Next he chose 6 solid hand to hand specialists, followed by 10 mech pilots. That left him 9 slots to fill, choosing highly skilled multi-taskers that had displayed an ability to adapt well. That gave him the core 50 he and Morgan had agreed upon, with the balance of the remaining Archons either to be assigned after the core teams had been formed or left unassigned for field work or additional training, which all new graduating classes would be shunted into.

43 of his 49 fellow Sabers were currently in the ocean floor sanctum, with the others already on Venus or deployed elsewhere off planet, which he would divert back to the Venus sanctum as soon as their current assignments allowed for it. Before Morgan or anyone else could stop him, he rounded up all of his new Clan and pulled rank, assigning a Cougar in low Earth orbit to come pick them up and carry them out to the high orbit starport. From there they would catch an inter-planetary starship out to Venus…which Paul had just given orders to delay its departure and wait for them to come out.

Being the unofficial fleet commander did have its privileges, after all.

Roger and Liam probably would have done the same thing, but they were still playing back in the pyramid and had no clue what was going on, and Paul was going to stick it to them while he had the advantage.

While his new recruits were packing he had a load of simulator equipment collected from Atlantis’s stores, extra sparring gear, and 14 support staff with trainer credentials, including one cranky old miser by the name of Jenkins that insisted on bringing his wife and kids along, wanting to have relocated to another planet for some time but never truly feeling comfortable leaving Atlantis. Paul had convinced him to come out of ‘retirement’ to help his Clan kick some ass, and that was something that Jenkins simply couldn’t resist. He immediately volunteered and informed his family of the sudden move, eliciting a cheer from his six children, who’d long romanticized living in space.

Paul stopped by to see Davis before he and the others shipped out, informing him of their grand scheme and how he was getting a jump on the others. The Director shook his head approvingly, not the least bit surprised that they’d had another brainstorm that would make the Archon ranks even more efficient and powerful than they already were.

When Paul laid out the Battletech example they were copying the concept intrigued Davis. He pried him for more information and Paul saw a gleam fill his eye, after which the Director suggested that they take the project one step further and set up Clan infrastructure to accommodate the training groups and give them a greater sense of internal identity. In the case of Venus, they’d add another wing to the sanctum, maybe two if another clan wanted to set up there.

Paul took the offer happily, knowing that Davis had something else up his sleeve but dismissed the suspicion to the recesses of his mind as he didn’t want to spend any more time in Atlantis than he needed to. Normally he liked visiting the city that he called home, but right now all he could think about was getting back to Venus and start building his new Clan.

Davis could see the eagerness as well, so he didn’t hold him any longer than necessary. After Paul left his office, the Director put in a call to one of his requisitions officers, asking for any and all material from the now obsolete Battletech franchise that he could track down.

Colonization

1

May 12, 2136

Sara watched from the bridge of the Leo-class starship as it approached the spherical space station in Jupiter orbit. Unlike most Star Force constructs, the Canderian station was painted dark green, almost to the point of being black, which made it difficult to see save for the side that reflected the sunlight. It wasn’t the largest station ever built, by far, but it was still massive. Designed to hold upwards of 100,000 colonists, the prototype station was the first semi-operational Canderian outpost.

Project Canderous had been in effect for several decades, first with stage 1 taking place in dedicated structures on the surface of Venus as various recycling measures were developed and tested in coordination with a small volunteer population. What they learned there, and the troubles that resulted, allowed Star Force to proceed to stage 2 whereupon a moderately sized group of colonists lived in smaller orbital stations, each tasked with testing a certain aspect of what was now all combined into a single stage 3 attempt to build a self-sufficient space station that could function as its own colony without the need to resupply for extended periods of time.

That included all food production and the industry necessary to manufacture space parts needed for station maintenance using a surplus of materials, plus recycling measures. At the heart of the spherical station were a series of gravity discs and cylinders suspended within the zero g sections of the giant ‘ball.’ Among them was a large water reservoir, built up through small shipments sent along with each cargo run. Even Sara’s Leo was bringing another load to add to that reservoir, which was currently at 43% capacity.

In addition to agriculture and industry, the Canderian station also had another critical component that hadn’t yet been fully integrated into a standing colony…the maturia.

It was the reason why Sara was arriving. She’d helped design it along with Paul and a few of the other Archons and now it needed some tweaking. Each maturia was grouped into orisects, which was shorthand for ‘section of origin,’ that contained 100 infants starting within a few days of birth. As a necessity all were roughly the same age and grouped as closely as possible, but given that this was the first operational Canderian maturia the gaps were longer than wanted, given the low population levels, and currently ran at +/- 3 months for the eldest orisect.

They were now 12 years old, having lived their entire lives on this one station. Sara had been monitoring their progress remotely, given that they were the first to go through a maturia in this fashion, and had spotted some troubling signs. Nothing major was wrong, but their track had gotten slightly off what the Archons and Davis had intended it to be, so she’d traveled out to Jupiter to make the corrections personally.

Her Leo eventually docked against the ‘equator’ of the static station and began offloading cargo. Sara crossed over with it, seeing the usual amount of personal items and novelties that the station couldn’t yet produce for itself. In the future there would be many Canderian stations that, while self-sufficient to a point, would be able to trade with each other for specialized items and equipment, but for now this lone station was still having to rely on Star Force for occasional shipments along with the material and water stockpiles that hadn’t been fully realized yet.

Sara transferred through the zero g cargo bay and moved her way into the gravity sections that ran down the polar spine of the station. There was an amicable amount of personnel traffic in the corridors, but the station wasn’t fully populated. It didn’t feel empty to her, but there was definitely a lot of elbow room to go around as she bypassed a visit to the command center and went straight to the maturia.

“Legionmaster,” she said, announcing herself as she walked in through his half open office door.

A trim man with short blonde hair rose out of his seat immediately upon recognizing her. “Archon,” he said with a nod of respect.

“Here to troubleshoot,” she said, closing the door behind her.

“Much appreciated,” he thanked her, sitting back down as she walked over to one of the three large windows that bracketed the maturia director’s office. She stopped in front of the far left one that gave her a view into the nearest of the infant wards. Small pods were arrayed in rows, 10 by 10, with a dozen or so handlers moving about attending to the needs of the recently born. After a few months this orisect would transfer to another chamber, taking 3/4ths of the handlers with them for the sake of familiarity for the children to the next age-zone.

When they reached approximately 1 year of age they would shift again, with 3/4ths of their handlers going with them, but only retaining 1/2 of their original staff. By the time they reached level 5 at age 3, all of their handlers that they had begun with at birth would have recycled back down to level 1 with a new orisect, allowing the older one to transition forward while retaining a specific age range for each handler to specialize in. All of them would be assigned 4 levels out of the 10 that comprised the maturia, allowing enough time for bonding to occur to facilitate their training, but at the same time rotating their handlers out a quarter at a time with each transfer so that the children would have access to progressively higher-rated instructors as they matured.

This was intended to aid the development process, whereas a single handler taking charge of their training through all the levels might not push them as hard as necessary, remembering them as infants or small children rather than assessing them for what they were in the here and now. With the higher end handlers not knowing their charges until they arrived in their age-specific window, they could offer an unbiased assessment and ‘tug’ the children on towards maturity faster than someone who would be sentimental. Also, the segmentation allowed the handlers to specialize in a specific age range of development rather than throwing the entire 20 year process at a single person and expecting them to master all the prerequisite training aspects.

The handlers also worked in groups that had ranks. The more experienced ones handled the most duties while the newer ones observed and assisted the primary handlers when needed, lending their eyes and hands while learning the ropes for a few hours each day before switching off with another group. In order to maintain the fitness and professionality of the handlers, they were only allowed to work a maximum 6 hour shift during their 30 hour Canderian days. This required a larger number of handlers, but kept the maturia from being the entirety of their lives.

“Any recent developments?” Sara asked as she watched the level 1 handlers go about their duties.

“The lethargy is growing fast in the first three orisects,” the Legionmaster said, frowning. “I can’t explain it, but they just don’t want to do anything. The laziness didn’t manifest itself till they hit level 8, but I can’t fault any of the trainers for it because I can’t see that they’re doing anything wrong.”

Sara turned around and leaned back against the window, crossing her arms over her chest. “They’re working on theoreticals. Archons don’t start training until they’re adults, so we have no experience with dealing with this developmental stage in a controlled setting.”

“I was only a year older than them when I entered the maturia,” the Legionmaster told her. “I was a bit gun shy at first, but as soon as I adapted I was extremely motivated. So were my brothers and sisters.”

Sara shook her head. “We’re dealing with an entirely different model here. You were an orphan, with knowledge of who your parents had been and of life outside the maturia. You could see how much cooler what we offered you was than what you had, thus you were motivated.”

“So you think this orisect’s problem is they’re ignorant of how good they’ve got it?”

“No, I think their lack of benchmarks is the problem. They’re the first ones to go through so they’re setting all the standards. They don’t have upper level orisects to look at and want to emulate. If we can get this first group on track, I think the problem will take care of itself.”

“How do you plan to tackle that one?”

“We’ll start with some meet and greet, then work our way up from there.”

The Legionmaster smiled. “Some ass-kicking always works wonders?”

“In so far as it lets them see their potential,” Sara explained. “Where are they now?”

“A001 should just be finishing up their sleep cycle.”

“Good,” Sara said with a smile. “Get them to the challenge zone.”

“I thought we were supposed to be running?” one of the girls asked the boy to her left as the entire orisect stood at attention in 5 rows of 20 waiting for their handlers to give them instructions.

“Me too,” the boy answered.

“I’m glad we’re not,” another one said. “I’m tired of stomping around that track.”

“Then pick up your feet, slacker,” someone else said, none of them turning their heads more than an inch or so as they whispered.

“Legionmaster,” someone else warned, with the whispering dying out.

The maturia commander walked out onto the wide promenade that separated various training zones used for structured challenges and stopped at the edge of the orisect formation, but the woman next to him, who was even more blonde than him, kept moving and strode out in front of all of them, beginning to speak as soon as she passed the first child.

“I am Archon Sara-012,” she said, seeing some of their little eyes go wide with surprise. “I helped create Canderous and I have been watching your progress very closely. Up until recently I’ve been pleased with the reports I saw…but not lately,” she said, stopping in front of the center of the formation and placing her hands on her hips as a frown found its way onto her face. “So what gives?”

She let the question hang there for a moment, but no one responded. “Your training scores suck. Someone tell me why.”

“It’s boring,” one extra small boy said from the second row.

“Boring?” Sara repeated, sounding as if his words were unbelievably close to treason. “Training is everything!”

She looked across the entire formation, making eye contact in all directions with one long sweep of her head. “Sit down, younglings,” she said, motioning with her hand.

As a group they sat, cross-legged, but still maintaining their rows.

“Do you want to grow old and die?” she asked, beginning to pace up and down the line but keeping a good two meters between her and them at all times so it didn’t feel like she was towering over them. “Do you want your body to slowly fall apart? Do you want it to malfunction and rot away while you’re still alive? Of course not, but then again you’ve never seen it happen. You’ve never seen old people. All your handlers are fit, and aside from me they’re probably the only other people you’ve met face to face.”

“But you have seen the pictures…I know, because I incorporated them into your studies. What the pictures don’t tell you is how much pain they’re in. People lie about growing old being a natural part of life, but what it really is is failure. Failure of your body hurts…a lot. Before I joined Star Force I knew a lot of old people, and they complained about aches and pains on a regular basis. Others tried to pretend there was nothing wrong, but every now and then you could see them hurting anyway. Old age is not pleasant. It is not fun. It is not funny. It is what will happen to you if you don’t learn to train and keep training. That’s why you’re here, in this maturia. That’s why I designed it. To teach you from the beginning how to maintain and improve your bodies so you never have to find out the hard way what old age is like.”

“Now, some of you are wondering why we call it ‘old age’ when it doesn’t have anything to do with how old you are. You’re right to wonder that, and if you read your studies closely you’ll remember that the name comes from a very common lie that most people cling to as an excuse for why their bodies are falling apart. They lie, saying it’s because of the years, but we know that’s not true.”

“Those old people you saw in the pictures…as far as the years are concerned, they’re younger than me! What’s the difference? Training. It’s all about the training.”

“I’m 118 years old. Almost every single person born the same year or before me is now dead. Why? They didn’t know how to train properly. They didn’t even have a clue that they could avoid old age. Most of them thought it was impossible, others were just plain lazy. I don’t want that to happen to any of you.”

“Remember, your bodies will take care of themselves in almost every way needed. Almost,” she repeated. “Now that small bit that your body can’t do on its own is up to you. There are three things you need to feed your body. Water, food, and workouts. Your body can’t get those things on its own, so you have to provide them.”

“Feed your body what it needs. It needs workouts, so don’t start skimping. You need to train to maintain the fitness you have. Look at you,” she said, pointing to them all. “None of you are fat or ugly.”

That remark brought some giggles with it.

“You know why?” Sara continued. “Because you’re fit. Fit people aren’t fat. Fit people aren’t ugly. You’re all in good condition because of the training you’ve done, so don’t stop now.”

Sara looked around, pausing for a moment. “Maybe some of you are thinking that since you’re already fit you can just do a little training and stay the same? Well, you’re probably right about that. It depends on what training you do and when. But there’s another reason to train, and that’s to improve yourself. To get stronger, faster, smarter.”

“Maybe you don’t really know what that is. You don’t have any older orisects around to look at, and your trainers don’t like showing off, but I can promise you that I don’t have that setback,” Sara said, snapping her fingers at the Legionmaster.

He likewise signaled to two handlers who were standing off to the side. They brought a stun sword and a training rifle forward and handed Sara the sword.

“Who’s the best shot here?” she asked, already knowing the answer.

Several hands shot up, but she looked around the tiny Canderians until she found the face she wanted. “Terry, get up here.”

The small boy smiled and leapt to his feet, stepping his way past the others and up to the handlers who gave him the training rifle.

“See that line on the floor,” Sara said, pointing back towards the door. “Go stand there.”

As he ran over to the mark lugging the large rifle, Sara backed up to another mark on the floor, giving them about 15 meters of separation.

“Alright,” she said, bringing her sword up in a guard position. “Try and shoot me.”

The boy raised the thick rifle, slid the safety off, then fired a blue blur at the Archon.

Sara whipped the training sword around one handed and easily knocked the compact foam ball out of the air, ricocheting it off into the seated younglings on purpose. “Again.”

The boy fired a second time, but she batted it away just as easily.

“Try three in a row.”

The boy did as instructed, but with a whip-like blade she batted them all out of the air.

“Hmmn, I think he needs some help. Two more volunteers.”

99 hands rose up, so she picked two seated in the front row.

“You…and you,” Sara said, pointing. “Get your weapons and stand behind your marks.”

The handlers brought two more training rifles up and showed them where their marks were, situated about 30 degrees to either side of the boy at the same 15 meter distance.

“Alright, when he says go you fire as many times as you can and try to hit me,” Sara said, slipping into a combat focus. This wasn’t going to be as easy.

“Ready…” one of the handlers prompted. “Go!”

The three children fired off their rifles, not in sync, but close. The blue balls shot out quite fast and Sara had to fling her sword around in a Jedi-ish sequence to hit the first two, then ducked to the right and let a high third cross over her left shoulder.

“Again…and this time don’t stop until you run out of ammo!”

“Go!” the handler yelled.

Ball after ball shot out, with Sara quickly deflecting each one of them…but in random directions. They were coming in too fast for her to intentionally line up a rebound on the thin, round blade, making for a fireworks display of deflections flying every which way, including a few that hit hard enough to bounce all the way back over the shooters’ heads to where the Legionmaster stood, who caught one of them barehanded out of the air without so much as budging from his straight line posture.

By the time the children had run out of ammo the floor was covered with spent ammunition. Sara finished off with a few roundhouse swings in a sort of cooldown flourish, then launched the sword through the air and back to the handler that’d given it to her. He caught it midair, then she walked back over to the group of seated younglings.

“Training gives you superpowers,” she told them in a lower voice, then looked at the child who’d spoken first. “And superpowers are not boring.”

2

At the end of a long day of ‘schooling’ the younglings and getting in her own workouts, Sara retreated into her temporary quarters within the maturia and found that she had a new message waiting from Clan Mantle. She clicked the play button and leaned back in her chair, massaging a kink in her neck.

“Status report on Clan activity,” the image of Katharine-422 said in a formal tone. “Two trials have been completed since your last update. Clan Saber has successfully claimed the firearms production facility in Charon orbit, while Clan Stark narrowly defeated Clan Croft for a micro-territory on Titania. In addition, Davis has announced three additional trials ranging from 3 to 7 months. The earliest is commando, followed by an aquatics and another commando. Prizes for the three are a micro-territory on Rhea, a foodstuff production facility on Europa, and a small shipyard orbiting Neptune.”

“We also have four outstanding trials on the books, two of which we’re entered and the chatter suggests we’re about 5th in line for the aerial trial. I personally think we could go as high as third, and Clan Vulcan has stated that they will not be vying for that prize. Apparently they have a batchall with Clan Raven scheduled during that slot and are devoting their best people toward winning that. I don’t know what they’re fighting over, but it must be big if they’re passing up a chance at another land grab.”

Katherine smiled, breaking the formality of the message. “Oh, and I saved the best for last. Davis also announced that, one year from yesterday, there will be a comprehensive trial to determine full possession of Dysnomia.”

“I did some checking, and at present only 12 Clans are qualified for the trial, not including us, because he’s tagged it as level 3. The good news is Clan Saber is also not qualified, so whoever gets it should start to break up the dynamic duo’s stranglehold a bit. Thought that would brighten your day,” the Archon said, ending the message with a wink.

Sara stared at the message prompt screen, whistling appreciatively. Davis was certainly upping the available prizes through an increased number of trials, but this was the first time he’d ever offered up an entire moon to the victor. Dysnomia was a small moon, about as small as one could get and still be considered a planetoid, in orbit around Eris, making it well beyond Pluto and on the edge of Star Force’s domain.

The only other distant outpost that they currently had was on Sedna, a small planet about three times further from the sun than Neptune currently, however, during its highly elliptical 11,000+ year orbit it would travel out more than 10 times that distance. That wasn’t a concern to Star Force, given that their engine technology was advancing faster than Sedna’s orbit, and Davis had established a small outpost on the world to serve as a foothold in the local orbital belt that held many hundreds of other planets.

These outer planets were small, accompanied by even more asteroids that were just on the wrong side of the planetary line…with gravity too weak to compress them down into spheres, which was the definition of a planetoid. That said, those large asteroids were almost as valuable, giving Star Force literally thousands of ‘land’ grabs available beyond Pluto, but the trick was they were spread out across a vast area of space, some of which made the distance from the Earth to the Sun look like it was just next door when you zoomed out the holographic map so that you could see them all.

Some of these small planets the general population didn’t know about yet. Star Force had been conducting an extensive survey, but even they didn’t have the sensor technology available to the V’kit’no’sat, so the old system survey was more complete than any other available and gave Davis the locations of some fairly large planets in extreme orbits that no one else had yet discovered. At the moment they were too far out of range to bring them into the fold in terms of the Star Force transportation grid, but eventually they’d expand out into them, and Sedna and Eris were yet another pair of stepping stones in that direction.

As it was, Star Force listed all planets within the star system into four zones. The inner zone ran from Sol out to Jupiter, and in this was the bulk of the system’s economy and colonies. A lesser amount inhabited the middle zone that ran from Jupiter out to Pluto/Neptune, whichever was furthest at the time. The high zone ran from Pluto/Neptune out to just past Sedna’s and Eris’s current positions, at about 100 AU or so, with an ‘AU’ being the distance from Earth to the Sun.

The fourth zone was called the ‘outer zone’ and it comprised the unexplored regions out to the edge of the star system…which was defined by the furthest an object could still be orbiting the star. That was a bit of an arbitrary measurement, because mathematically that could include insane distances if the object’s orbital speed was almost at a standstill. According to the V’kit’no’sat records, the furthest detectable planet lay at 12,000 AU but they’d never so much as set foot on the world, given that it was essentially a rogue planet and so cold not to be worth their time.

Being so hard to get to, the Archons had nicknamed it ‘Mordor’ and Davis had eventually sanctioned the moniker.

Dysnomia was just next door by comparison, as were the other high zone planetoids. National expansion zones had just begun creeping into the middle zone, with the most recent territorial allotments occurring on Callisto in Jupiter orbit. That left nearly the entire middle zone open to the Clans to colonize, along with the distant high zone, according to Davis’s master plan.

Two years into the Archon’s competitive Clan program Davis had approached them with an ambitious upgrade. He’d told them that he wanted to combine their military angle with a civilian one, just as Star Force was split into both divisions. He told them that he needed to train ‘mini-me’s’ but didn’t have the option of doing so when he was running everything. All his subordinates were specialists, and he wanted at least some of his people to learn what he had when he first began building Star Force from scratch.

Thus Davis suggested that each Clan be assigned a ‘director’ that would work with the Archons to expand their holdings and create industry of their own…all independent of the Star Force markets. They could only produce their own material or trade with each other…those were the rules Davis wanted. He assigned each Clan a small territory in Antarctica, gave them a stockpile of resources and various industries, and let them see what they could build.

The Archons loved the idea, especially when Davis added economic prizes to their competitions. Now every battle they fought with each other had a tangible outcome that would affect the growth of their Clans. Survival of the fittest, so to speak, with the dominant Clans being able to grow faster than the others through conquest in addition to self-replication.

The prizes Davis had been offering them all came from Jupiter orbit on out, nothing in the inner zone. With every year that passed by he offered up more and more prizes, for which the 100 Clans fought over in one of the five combat categories: Aquatics, Commando, Naval, Aerial, and Mechs. A few rare and precious prizes held larger contests, in which all five areas had to be contested with a combined score determining the victorious Clan.

It had been three years since the last one, when Davis put up a small amount of metallic hydrogen as the prize and all 100 Clans had dove into the fray, with Clan Saiyan winning out. They’d taken their prize and had their techs construct one of the newest Star Force power cores, which now ran their entire colony on Ganymede, which functioned as the Saiyans’ capitol.

   That contest had been a level 1, which meant that all Clans that had attained a level 1 rating in each of the five categories could enter. The current contest required level 3 in all the categories, which made it the hardest challenge yet that any of the Clans had faced. Clan Mantle currently had only one level 3 rating, and that was in Aerial. The rest of the Clan had worked hard to earn that rating by passing an insane number of challenges, but they’d worked even harder to earn level 2s in the other four, making Clan Mantle one of the more well-rounded Clans.

Well-rounded had been Sara’s goal, but it also meant that her Clan was unlikely to win any of the single category trials, which usually were swept up by the specialists. Her Clan had missed out on their first win 12 years ago on a comprehensive trial where they’d finished a close third, given that the parameters of that contest had suited her Clan’s strengths well. Within each category there were numerous subcategories from which one would be chosen to determine the victor, and Davis was always rotating them around so no one Clan could focus specifically on one aspect and expect to win repeated.

Some Clans still did, hoping to take advantage when that subcategory came up again. For example, Jason’s Clan Sangheili prided itself on having the best swordsmen of all the Clans, but swordplay was only one of dozens of subcategories within the Commando classification, which covered everything from unarmed fighting to team-based stinger matches.

Morgan’s Clan Ninja Monkey was the dominant Commando Clan, but whenever they met the Sangheili in a swords competition they always lost. Jason was simply too good, and he’d passed on his skill to his fellow Archons. Likewise, Paul’s Clan Saber was also a swords specialist Clan. They could both beat the Ninja Monkeys in that narrow slice of the pie, but Morgan’s Clan dominated the rest of it.

Likewise, all the other Clans had their specialties, whether they intended to create them or not. Clan Saber was the strongest of all the Clans, well balanced, but with the swords peculiarity. They rated a level 5 in naval, 4 in commando, 3 in aerial and mechs, and a 2 in aquatics, whereas most Clans hadn’t yet surpassed level 2 in any category. With the head start Paul had gotten in the beginning, his Clan had swept up many of the initial prizes and quickly established a larger economic base than the others, rounding out his needs for self-sufficiency off Earth early on, then pursuing avenues of conquest of his choosing while the others scrambled to establish footholds. His methodical approach had served his Clan well, and he’d progressed in the areas he wished with few setbacks, gradually growing his Clan to not only be the strongest, but also the largest.

The Sabers held the most territory, the highest population, and the biggest fleet. While that didn’t directly relate to the trials yet, come 2140 all equipment used within the trials had to be produced by the Clan, or else they wouldn’t be able to use it in the simulators. That meant everything from stinger rifles up to warships, and Paul had wisely set his Clan on a course to attaining all the necessary technology to stay afloat once that change in procedure was implemented.

That said, the Sabers still had help. As in all things, Paul and Jason had teamed up, forming an alliance in which they shared everything from resources to personnel to prizes. If there was a prize that the Saber’s wanted, but didn’t have the strength in a particular subcategory that was being contested and the Sangheili did, Jason’s Clan would fight for and win it, then trade it to the Sabers in exchange for something they wanted.

The Sangheili weren’t as strong as the Sabers, but they were well balanced with a tilt towards commando while the Sabers tilted to naval. Combined, they made an intimidating pair with both Clans reaping the rewards of that alliance and growing stronger because of it.

The rest of the Clans saw what the pair had done and sought to emulate it. They’d always traded amongst each other for small things and the occasional high volume trade wasn’t unheard of, but actually coordinating together had been something of a taboo early on, but once the dynamic duo had broken through that hesitance other alliances sprouted up, with the 8s being the largest.

All of Rafa’s former team coordinated their 10 Clans into a shared economy, with each focusing on a different aspect. Five of the Clans each specialized in one of the 5 areas of contention, while one went straight even across all areas, trying to have no weaknesses. Two others completely eschewed balance and completely got rid of their aquatics, aerial, and mech categories, focusing entirely on naval and commando. The last two did the reverse, one focusing on aquatics and aerial, the other on aerial and mechs in the hopes of claiming more prizes that could then be shared with the rest of their alliance.

Indeed, the 8s had swept up more prizes than anyone else, but individually their Clans weren’t impressive. Together they were dominant, but none of them had the individual ratings necessary to qualify for the Dysnomia trials, meaning they wouldn’t have a chance at grabbing the moon and sharing it amongst their 10 Clans.

Each of the 100 Clans took their own unique route to prosperity, with none failing. Even those who had never won a trial still had the opportunity to grow on their own merits, and some of the Clans had chosen to remain isolationist, only participating in trials for competition’s sake. Clan Star Fox had broken into the top 10 so far as territorial holdings without ever winning one through trials, instead waiting for periodic allotments similar to what the nations were receiving from Davis. Difference was the Clan allotments were private, minuscule by comparison, and tied to a Clan’s economic achievements.

Other Clans chose a third option to increase their holdings…or diminish them. The ‘batchall’ was a challenge between individual Clans in which one would offer a prize from their own holdings in exchange for something they valued that another Clan possessed. If they came to agreeable terms they would compete against each other, with the victor claiming the spoils. Some Clans, especially Clan Forerunner and Clan Scorpion, were proficient in offering batchalls that the opposing Clans thought would be to their advantage, only to find that the opposing Clan had found a way to outmaneuver them in combat. Some learned from this and declined future batchalls from either Clan, while others sought out the challenge and offered them batchalls.

Needless to say, those who wanted the private versus battles had plenty available to them, with the consistent winners growing their Clans by leaps and bounds over the others…but true dominance in the batchalls was nearly impossible, so all saw setbacks. The wily Clans gained more than they lost, providing them an avenue of advancement even if they weren’t the overall strongest of the Clans…they just had to be better, or better aligned, than the one they were squaring off against.

On occasion there would even be paired batchalls, in which two allied Clans would face off against two, or even three, others. In this way all the Clans, no matter how weak or dominant, could find sufficient challenges to keep them razor sharp, all the while looking after Star Force’s primary military, in addition to their own small Clan militias.

Those militias were quickly growing into full scale armies of their own, having recruited retiring Star Force officers into their ranks, as well as picking out promising newbs to groom in what the Archons referred to as their ‘grand experiment’ as they worked with different strategic and equipment packages ranging from new Knight combat tactics all the way up to original warship designs coming out of Clan Saber. What they found useful they copied into Star Force itself, while their failures were just chalked up as experience points.

In recent years some of the Clans had began calling batchalls between non-Archons, squaring off their Knights or naval officers for the sake of training and pride, but with no prizes attached to the outcome. These quickly became sporting matches, with the civilian members of the Clans being given access to watch the competitions live or on replay and spreading the competitive vibe the Archons lived and breathed out to the rest of their people, who cheered on their own with the fervor of a local sports team.

Clan Mantle hadn’t ventured out into that arena yet, having very little in the way of a military other than the Archons. Sara’s Clan had some militia for peacekeeping purposes, but with the presence of the Star Force fleet in the system she hadn’t seen it necessary to try and replicate it. Her Clan preferred using those resources for growing the Clan’s economy, but others like Paul, of course, had wanted one of his own so a mini arms race had ensued between part of the Clans.

It galled her that Paul could spend so many resources on building his personal warfleet and still have enough resources to surpass Clan Mantle’s economic output.

Someone had to stop him, and Sara had long hoped that someone would be her Clan, but to date it was all they could do just to keep pace with his growth. They were losing on the economic front, but their skill levels were not bad and Clan Saber’s were on par in most areas as far as improvement was concerned. He’d just gotten such a jump in the beginning with his ‘selection’ of personnel that her people had yet to close the gap.

Sara adjusted the message prompt into the respond function, then hit the key on the wall monitor that would record a reply.

“Good news indeed, but if you think the Sabers won’t be ready come a year from now you’re being overly optimistic. They’ll get their qualifier…and so will we,” Sara said, shaking her head at what she presumed would be Katherine’s response. “Don’t argue the point, because I know it is possible. Even if we’re not going to win Dysnomia I want our Clan to be in the trial for it. This is the biggest prize Davis has ever offered and it’d be embarrassing if we had to sit on the sidelines.”

“I know we’ve got some ground to cover between now and then, but we’ll just have to double down on our training and kick our asses into overdrive. I won’t be back for a month, so you’ll have to get the others started. Focus entirely on our weak areas and get some combat sims running. We need a mix if we’re going to catch up in time…and we will. Don’t think otherwise. I know our capabilities and this is within our range if we don’t hold anything back…so we won’t.”

“Get me a copy of our training schedules so I can tweak them from here,” Sara finished unceremoniously, reaching out and punching the stop button. She skipped over the review option and sent the message back to Katherine who was on Earth. By choice Sara kept most of her Archons in the primary sanctum, utilizing its extensive training facilities in lieu of spending the resources to create a copy elsewhere in Clan Mantle’s holdings. Several other Clans were also Earth-based, with deployed personnel scattered around the system seeing to either Star Force business or Clan activities.

Her business with Canderous was one such Star Force duty, but only the more experienced Archons were deployed to the field, allowing most of her Clan members unlimited training time, more so than many of them knew what to do with. She hadn’t pressed them too hard in the past, as far as Archon standards went anyway, but she knew there was a slack in scheduling there that she could rid them of in order to catch up in time for the Dysnomia trial.

Belatedly she wondered how hard the other Clans were pressing, and if the dominance of Paul and the others was a result of it.

Sara shook her head in the negative as she shut down the communications console.

“Nope,” she whispered to the air. “Paul just cheated.”

3

July 3, 2136

Jason ducked under a slash at his head, then brought his low-powered stun sword up with a flick of his wrist towards Paul’s chin, but the Archon backstepped just in time to miss the tip of the rounded blade. Jason continued its motion around in a large circle, then crossed blades with Paul in a series of quick, short, and powerful strikes, pushing and countering as they squared off in the training ring.

Both were excellent swordsmen, and about the only ones who could provide the other with a significant challenge. Today they were simply going through sparring drills, fighting at about 80% and maneuvering their way through a mostly orchestrated routine, shifting from one aspect to another with the occasional twist thrown in to keep each other on their toes…and with the blades set to low stun just to remind them not to get sloppy.

Both Clan leaders met up for workouts on a regular basis while the rest of their people kept to themselves. It was one perk of being a trailblazer to be able to step over Clan lines for training partners, because without that the second gen Archons wouldn’t have provided enough of a peer group. When Clan Saber was founded on Venus Jason had taken his newly minted Clan Sangheili there as well so they could train against each other as needed, and to date both Clans often competed against each other in informal challenges to enhance their training, though today wasn’t one of those days.

It was a regular workout, and only the third they’d had together since Jason had returned from a trip to Earth, both for Clan duty and to deal with Knight matters. The miniature giants now outnumbered the Archons 3 to 1, with most of them being deployed on security details across the star system. They made for intimidating guards, but whenever there was special ops duty required it was usually the Archons that stepped in to fill it, leaving the Knights without many combat duties.

To compensate for this Jason had organized an extensive training regimen that kept those not assigned to posts busy on an almost Archon-like level trying to increase their skill ranks while competing against each other in occasional tournaments. The process had been adequately successful in raising a core group of skilled fighters, but overall it had become clear that they had more Knights than they knew what to do with, given the lack of conflicts post WW3.

Problems still arose, but no one was game enough to try to launch an outright war again after seeing how Star Force had dealt with the previous combatants, so instead they tried more subtle means to get at each other, most of which were economic. Those that involved behind the scenes military action were easily dealt with by the Archons, leaving the Knights as almost an unnecessary part of Star Force.

Jason knew otherwise, as did the rest of the Archons, but the Knights didn’t know about the threat of the V’kit’no’sat so they had very little to focus themselves on. A growing number had begun to quit, requesting the size decreasers so they could return to ‘normal’ life without towering over everyone else. Most retained a few inches over the public for vanity’s sake, but what was growing into mass desertion worried Jason, prompting his return to Earth and the Knight training center in Antarctica.

He’d had a long talk with Vermaire, during which the Black Knight had suggested telling them the truth, or at least a small group of them, and letting him take them to the pyramid so that they could train against the holograms and see what they were really up against. To date, Vermaire was the only Knight to have been made aware of the pyramid and those who’d built it.

After several rounds of discussion, in which Jason correctly pointed out that such an action wouldn’t affect the overall Knight ranks, Vermaire offered to train the ‘commanders’ of what would potentially become Clan Knight companies that would fight with the Archons in the commando trials…or at least those that were applicable. 

    Incorporating the Knights into the Clans wasn’t a decision he could make on his own, but he knew Paul would be game and had arranged for a trial program to start the following year after Vermaire had run them through his own version of badass boot camp. Jason wasn’t sure how all this would pan out, but between Clan Saber and Clan Sangheili they’d experiment and see what they could make of it.

The bottom line was, though, that the Knights needed challenges as much as the Archons did, perhaps even more so to keep them focused and prepping for the future during these ‘peaceful’ times. Though it wasn’t his specific domain, Jason had also commented to Paul that they might need to incorporate a similar version for Star Force’s security forces, which had grown into an army of its own over the years. They were always busy, but weak when compared to the Archons and Knights.

Originally they had only been designed as placeholders while the Archons would do the fighting, but they’d been the ones taking the casualties during Star Force’s conflicts. No Archons or Knights had been killed to date, though a couple of the Knights had come close, losing limbs to enemy explosives. They’d been stabilized and shipped back to Atlantis, whereupon after treatment by the V’kit’no’sat regenerators they’d regrown said limbs over a few months time.

As a result of the security force casualties an evolution within the ‘police force’ had gradually taken place, upgrading their ranks into tiers with more and more combat skilled individuals being organized into squads within the structural hierarchy to deal with situations that an Archon would originally have been called in to handle, such as confiscating property from armed individuals.

To make a simple point of the matter, the security forces had grown up as an organization and would need to be looked at in a similar way to the Knights with regards to keeping a combat-ready edge, even though that’s not what they’d originally been intended for.

A quick over-powered thrust caught Jason on the shoulder, delivering a tiny numbness on impact as Paul saw a moment of hesitation in his friend’s movements and exploited it.

“Wake up,” Paul said as Jason responded with a set of more powerful return blows. Jason pushed Paul back a step, then likewise retreated and held up a hand for them to stop, nodding at the entrance behind his friend.

Paul turned around and saw two men in the open doorway to the private sparring ring. “How long have you two been there?”

“I just got here,” Marquis Danison said, glancing over at his counterpart.

“About five minutes,” Marquis Hightower answered with a shrug. “I was enjoying the show.”

“Both of you at once?” Jason wondered, glancing at Paul. “This has got to be something good.”

“Or bad,” Paul differed. “Alright, what’s up?” he asked the two men responsible for their Clans’ economic and logistics ventures. They were Davis’s handpicked ‘mini-me’s’ and had been responsible for the Sabers’ and Sangheili’s civilian operations from the very beginning.

Danison gestured for Hightower to go ahead.

“I received a request from Clan Star Fox to purchase or trade for one of our Leos...and a pair of lancers.”

“Funny,” Danison said, leaning against the door jamb. “They made a similar request of us, except that they wanted two Cougars.”

“Warships?” Paul asked his Marquis, referring to the Lancer-class ships that Clan Saber had developed. Smaller than a cutter and only marginally larger than a pair of drones, the lancer had been Paul’s brainstorm to provide a mobile weapons platform with decent speed to the Clans in lieu of the larger warship fleets that most of them couldn’t afford to build. Clan Saber had built every lancer in service and sold them to the other Clans for a tidy profit, but to date Clan Star Fox had never placed any orders with them, preferring to focus on economic ventures rather than building up a military fleet.

“Yes, I found that rather odd,” Hightower noted.

“Two Cougars?” Jason asked skeptically. “We have three surplus, correct?”

“Correct,” Danison echoed.

“They’re up to something,” Paul suggested, turning to Jason.

“You think they’ve been hit?”

“By what, pirates? They’d just call in the fleet to deal with them.”

“I have a theory,” Hightower interrupted.

“I wonder if it matches mine,” Danison mewed.

“I think it might,” the other Marquis continued. “The only reason I can consider for their wanting warships is a change of philosophy…”

“Hardly,” Paul scoffed.

“…or they’re operating in a region where the main fleet isn’t stationed and they’re concerned about response times.”

The two Archons exchanged glances. Star Force had patrols and outposts virtually everywhere in the system where there was civilization.

“I concur with my colleague,” Danison said. “I think they’re going prospecting, and need the extra cargo ships to extend their supply lines.”

“Prospecting?” Jason asked. “They can’t unless they…” he stopped, turning to Paul. “No way.”

“They’re expanding into the outer zone,” the other Archon said, coming to the only viable conclusion. The inner, middle, and high zones were under Davis’s direction, and at his prerogative to divvy up however he wanted, but the outer zone was still the frontier and not under Star Force’s domain. Paul knew Davis was going to extend out there eventually, but until he did it was technically up for grabs.

“That son of a bitch,” Jason said, referring to Randy. “He’s going to get the jump on Davis and grab up a bunch of territory.”

“Bold move,” Paul said, his mind wandering.

“What?” Jason asked.

“Davis wanted the Clans to be independent,” he pointed out. “Why not take it a step further instead of waiting on him for handouts?”

“Logistically speaking,” Hightower interrupted, “that would be a nightmare, if you’re thinking what I’m thinking you’re thinking.”

“No,” Danison said, glancing at Jason for confirmation or denial. “Not that far out.”

“All the 2s?” Paul asked.

“Not enough,” Hightower said with a firm shake of his head.

“What about all the Clans then?”

Hightower considered that, then nodded once. “Possible.”

“We need a summit meeting,” Jason decided. “Without Davis hearing about it,” he added, glancing at his Marquis, then Paul’s.

“Mum’s the word,” Danison reluctantly agreed.

“We can use one of the trials,” Hightower suggested. “It’ll cover most of our transit in legitimate business.”

“Just to make sure we’re all on the same page here,” Danison said warily. “You’re talking about Mordor, right?”

“At the end of the to-do list,” Jason reassured him. “There’s plenty of grabs closer in than that.”

“Good, because establishing a supply line that far out is going to be hard enough for Davis to accomplish, let alone the Clans.”

“Not up for a challenge?” Hightower teased.

“Easy fellas,” Paul cautioned. “Play nice.”

“Even the closest planet in the outer zone will take weeks to travel to from here,” Danison explained. “And the big ones are, quite frankly, out of our reach until we get a workable gravity drive. Even then it’ll be a long trek out.”

“Which is why no one is going to care or notice us out there,” Jason explained.

Danison sighed. “Aren’t there enough rocks in the high zone to satisfy you guys?”

“You know,” Paul said sarcastically. “If the Sangheili want to opt out, I’m sure the rest of us will be able to manage our way out there.”

“Don’t be insulting,” Jason deflected. “My Marquis just has this habit of only working within the realm of the possible. He hasn’t mastered the art of the impossible yet.”

“You guys really want to waste a significant portion of Clan resources on this?” Danison asked disbelievingly.

“And to do it without Davis knowing about it,” Jason added with a sly smile.

“What about the transponders?” Hightower asked, noting the obvious problem.

“Fleet is the one who monitors them,” Paul pointed out. “And they take orders from us.”

“Ok…” Hightower said, not realizing it was that easy to hide things from Davis.

“Look at it this way guys,” Jason said, rubbing his hands together expectantly. “Davis wanted you to get some independent experience, and what better way to do that than to organize outside of his reach.”

“Won’t he be mad if he finds out?” Danison asked.

“Not with us,” Paul assured him, deadpan. “He knows we can beat him up.”

4

November 8, 2136

Paul stood in the Admiral’s circle aboard the bridge of the battleship Excalibur, only vaguely aware of his Clansmen around him. A physical pedestal stood before him with a host of controls, but it was the only tangible object within reach. Everything else was hologram in a 360 degree spherical radius that overshadowed the view of the bridge, which was reduced to a faint haze, his crew mere outlines behind a vast starfield that circled him head to toe as he ‘stood’ next to the Excalibur with the triangular warship occupying about 3 meters to his left.

Elsewhere in the holographic space were the two dozen other warships that made up his strike force for this naval trial. Each of them was visible, stretched out around the battleship in a tight perimeter as they traveled towards a large green gas giant that glowed ominously ahead of Paul and his fleet. In orbit around it was a defense station, the destruction of which was their objective in this trial.

Paul watched the range-finder scroll down quickly, then began deploying his fleet when they hit a specified distance out via his control pedestal.

Suddenly the warship beside him shrank down to less than a meter and highlight markers began to sprout up on the other ships. With each one tagged in sequence he sent out specific orders to his crew manning the other stations on the bridge that were flying the remote ships. Within those orders each Archon would fight their part of the battle, weapon by weapon, as Paul guided their overall strategy.

As he issued orders an enlargement of the defense station appeared in ghostly holo, indicating it was not truly where it now appeared, floating amongst his ships. With the schematic he began tagging target locations on the station’s hull, which he then shuffled over to individual ships, setting up his lineup for the assault.

As he worked, the warships around him began to drift apart, putting more distance between them to make it harder for a miss against one of them to impact another by accident, and even as he issued the orders he saw a tiny icon flash by that belonged to a rail gun slug fired by the station. Too far out of range for a reliable shot, the station defenders were hoping to get a lucky hit in, knowing that they had ammunition to spare.

Several more flashed by as his fleet approached, with the battleship using reverse engines to slow down rather than flipping over to use the main engines. Their approach speed was low enough that such a maneuver was possible, keeping the main rail gun in line as the massive ship came to a standstill at long range from the station…with the smaller ships forming two ‘horns’ and continuing to close while moving wide, keeping the firing lane in between the battleship and station clear.

As soon as the reverse engines shut down the pilot adjusted their attitude enough to bring the rail gun’s firing arc into position, then the gunner micro-adjusted within that arc, launching a heavy slug in towards the much larger station.

With the size comparison between battleship and station in his favor, Paul kept his flagship at range and began a slugging match across the gap. Return fire blossomed all around the Excalibur as tiny highlighted slugs flashed past like a meteor shower, a few of which hit and deflected off the angled armor, scraping off furors into the Herculium as they passed.

The Excalibur’s slugs had a much bigger target to aim at, and a much longer firing barrel to aim with, increasing its accuracy versus the station’s multiple batteries. Unable to target specific weapons or hull plates, the battleship’s gunner did  manage to hit the station with about 3/4ths of the shots fired, which caused significant smash damage as the metallic slugs hit face on against the station’s thick armored plates, breaking through with each hit and savaging the interior.

The station, given its size, couldn’t be killed quickly, but as the exchange continued Paul noted where the damage was occurring and began updating his target list for his other ships that were just now coming into flanking positions.

A red flash illuminated on the battleship holo to his left, indicating a hull breach just starboard of the tip of the triangular hull where one of the station’s slugs had hit almost square on. It hadn’t deflected much, and now there was a gaping hole in the armored hull, but fortunately it had missed the primary rail gun. Had that been hit, this battle would have been much harder to win.

Tiny dots began flashing on the station, indicating the points of invisible laser strikes as they ate small craters into the armored hull by superheating the material in an explosive fashion. Missile plumes from the flanking ships also leapt out, the long range variety first, with retaliatory flights coming from the station and crisscrossing the space in between. Anti-missile turrets activated on both sides as the maelstrom intensified.

A moment of calm ensued for Paul as his hands fell from the control pedestal and he was forced to watch how the battle played out. His eyes darted from one point to another, along with the floating damage statistics he had running on a holographic panel that oriented off his right shoulder as if it was a transparent wall, detailing each ship in his fleet with green/yellow/red hull markings letting him assess damage at a glance.

After a few minutes of what seemed like chaos Paul smiled and entered a few additional commands, seeing his plan beginning to unfold. Eliminating weapons emplacements on the station as if they were chess pieces, he began carving out a blind spot in their defenses while rotating his damaged ships around, having them present undamaged flanks to the station while moving their hull breaches out of the line of fire…as well as altogether hiding behind one another or doubling up anti-missile coverage by bringing their ships closer together.

The Sabers knew what they were doing, so Paul wasn’t burdened by having to issue orders concerning everything. That left him free to troubleshoot and look out for surprises by the enemy commander…though for this part of the trial it was a computer simulation only. No Clan or any personnel were defending the computer-controlled station, in order to give each attempt at the trial an objective score, whereas an opponent would learn and adapt when faced with multiple runs.

As the blind spots in the station’s defenses began to manifest themselves Paul highlighted the ‘safe’ regions and uploaded that navigational data to his fleet, allowing them to trust his tagged zones and maneuver inside them as they continued their assault. Once they were all tucked in safely they began trashing the station’s hull and digging further and further into the lateral superstructure as the Excalibur continued to blow through the ‘front door.’

Paul stood ramrod straight, arms now crossed behind the small of his back as he watched the grinding ensue. It was almost an academic exercise at this point, but with the missiles’ ability to arc around a closed line of sight there was still an element of uncertainty, though his own fleet’s arcing missiles were pinpointing and destroying the station’s launchers and anti-missile defenses one by one, overwhelming the latter before exposing and lighting up the former in a textbook assault typical of Clan Saber.

When Paul’s fleet had systematically destroyed all of the station’s defense systems the trial automatically ended, saving them the time of having to blast every bit of it into oblivion. The holograms surrounding Paul vanished and he looked out at his Clan members on the bridge mockup as they all stared at their floating score number that had replaced the tactical hologram.

4,589

Paul nodded. “Good work. That puts us into 2nd behind the Neon Squirrels by…” Paul hesitated, doing the mental math, “319 points. That’s catchable if we have a few good runs or they screw up.”

“Liam’s not going to screw up,” Levi told him.

Paul smiled. “Probably not, unless we can make him screw up when we go head to head.”

The second gen Archon checked his watch. “Three hours?”

Paul did likewise. “Make it two. I want to run through the other Clans’ results before we get into the melees.”

“Two then,” Levi confirmed as he and the six other Sabers filed out of the simulator.

Paul followed them out and clapped Ryan on the shoulder as his 8-man team stood by for their turn. “All yours.”

“What’d you hit?”

“4,589,” Paul told him as he walked passed.

“Alright Spartans,” Ryan rallied sarcastically. “Let’s go for half of that!”

Paul laughed along with a few of Ryan’s Clan, accepting the compliment. The Sabers always had high naval scores, but Roger and Liam were equally fierce competition, having specialized in that area in order to get a leg up on Paul, whose Clan was more balanced. Their Clans both rated a level 6 in naval, thanks to more than half of their Clan members being devoted to that discipline.

Even now some of their Clans were traveling to another trial in Atlantis, while Paul had taken his best people out to Titan for this one. Logistically speaking the travel time required excluded Paul or any other trailblazer from competing in all of the trials personally, plus their non-Clan duties also eliminated large blocks of the calendar from their availability, meaning that many of the trials would be contested with second rate Clan members.

This allowed for a lot of gamesmanship, with Clans picking when and where to send their best people. Any naval trial that Paul attended had Clan Saber with an edge, but when Roger and Liam were also present that edge became so slim that it was almost negligible. Still, he knew, that while they battled it out here, the other Clans would be sending people elsewhere to take advantage of his and the other trailblazers’ absence, since they’d all decided to attend this trial.

Paul figured they had a 20% chance of winning this one, for which the prize would be a new Viper-class inter-planetary starship. The Sabers had fallen behind a bit after the second of 10 challenges within this naval trial when Clan Neon Squirrel had sunk an incredibly high score and Clan Saber had come through only with an above average mark. The challenge they’d just run had been #5, with the remaining five being versus battles rather than point runs. One would be defensive, another offensive, a third head to head, and the last two would be tournaments, with points awarded for how far each Clan progressed.

For now though, Paul had two hours to spare…which meant it was time for another briefing session.

Instead of going back to his quarters in the orbiting sanctum, Paul headed over to a small lounge that the trailblazers had reserved for their specific use where he found Sam, Will, Greg, Erin, and Dan waiting for him.

“Tear it up as usual?” Greg asked as Paul walked in and shut the door behind him.

“Pretty much,” Paul said, sliding into an overly cushioned chair.

“Alright, what’s up?” Erin asked, leaning forward.

“Something big,” Paul said, dropping his voice out of reflex, though no one in the hallway could have heard them speaking short of a shout. “We’re organizing a Clan-wide project without Davis’s knowledge.”

Greg raised an eyebrow. “Going behind his back?”

“Getting the jump on him,” Paul corrected. “We want to start colonizing the outer zone before he can lay claim to it.”

Dan whistled.

“That’s…” Erin said, running the implications through her head a couple of times, “ambitious.”

Sam smiled widely. “Oh, that’s perfect. He did say we were supposed to operate independently.”

“Exactly,” Paul agreed.

“What exactly are we looking at?” Will asked.

Paul got up and walked over to the video monitor hanging on the wall and brought up the system map he and Jason had been using to bring everyone up to speed in small groups throughout the course of the trial.  

“We need to establish on these five worlds,” he said, tagging four small planets in the bottom end of the outer zone and Dysnomia, which was in orbit around Eris at the outer edge of the high zone. “From these we can branch out into these clusters,” he said, adjusting the map to draw mini constellations between other planets, each attached to the five linchpins.

“They’re all small,” Erin pointed out.

“Yes, but they’re ours if we can get to them first,” Paul explained. “In time we can transition out to the larger ones, even Mordor eventually, but if we can pull this off we’ll have access to more territories than Davis is making available to us through trials, and we can split it up according to our own terms.”

“We don’t have the ships to get that far out, do we?” Greg asked.

“Yes and no,” Paul said, repeating the conversation he’d already had four times with other groups. “We can get there with current inter-planetary starships but it will take a while…or we can refit them with larger fuel stores for enhanced speed.”

“Which diminished cargo capacity,” Erin noted.

Paul nodded. “We need to design our own inter-zonal starship to achieve the enhanced range…not to mention put some more forward armor on it to accommodate the greater speeds. We’re going to have to design and manufacture them ourselves, which no Clan is in a good position to do on our own. We need everyone…or almost everyone to commit resources to this. Only the united Clans can make this happen at the speed and volume we want.”

“What do the numbers look like if we went at it solo?” Sam asked.

“Randy was already considering that when we stumbled onto his plan. He was looking at snagging one planet using existing ships in an exaggerated supply chain. The plan was workable, but he was going to have to acquire a lot more ships to make it work. We think that fielding new technology will be worth the combined expense.”

“This was Randy’s idea?” Dan asked.

“That Jason and I stole, yes.”

“Bet he wasn’t too happy about that,” Dan said, snickering.

“Not really,” Paul admitted, “but that’s his own fault for getting sloppy and trying to buy ships from other Clans en mass. It tipped us off right away.”

“So that’s what he wanted them for,” Greg mewed.

“Anyway, he’s onboard with the grand scheme now, especially since it’ll open up more territory than he’d planned to go after. What we need from you is a ‘go/no go’ decision and your help regardless to keep this a secret.”

The trailblazers looked amongst themselves. “We’re in,” Dan said without hesitation.

“Same here,” Greg added. “I like the idea of beating Davis out there.”

“Should be interesting,” Erin agreed. “Clan Alterra is in.”

“We’re not missing this party,” Sam declared.

“We’re in,” Will said, finishing the unanimous decision. “But this is going to be a bear to pull off.”

“I know,” Paul said, nodding. “But a worthy challenge.”

“How do you want to split up the workload?” Erin asked.

“Only three of us have shipyards large enough to build the ships we need,” Paul began, pulling up a rough task list he and Jason had put together earlier. “If we have the rest of you fabricate smaller components and ship them out to us…”

5

March 3, 2139

The Way of the Clans left the Clan Croft starport around Titania fully loaded, lazily making its way out of Uranus orbit before altering course and heavily accelerating out towards the periphery of Star Force’s dominion. With the ever changing positions of the planets within the star system there was no fixed map to work from, but with farther distance from the Sun came orbital periods of hundreds of years which gave a semi-permanence to their locations. As such, for their first target for colonization, the Clans had chosen a small planet directly outside the relative position of Neptune to keep from having to cut across the inner zone to get to the opposite side and add even more distance to their first expedition.

The planet in question had a diameter of 1200 kilometers, making it approximately the same size as Charon but was located at more than three times the distance from the Sun as Pluto’s moon at 105 AU. It had been given the name Raena in a naming lottery, with the winner choosing her favorite singer for the label, but since none of the Archons could stand her high-pitched screeching voice they’d decided to rename the planet ‘Goku’ for their purposes…as well as making an alteration in Star Force’s database to match.

It took a week of acceleration for the extended range inter-planetary starship to get up to a speed of 4,000 miles per second, whereupon the massive ship entered its coast phase and spun up its quartet of gravity cylinders. Inside the living sections all the modular components shifted from acceleration based gravity aligned with the ship’s orientation to the spinning gravity of the cylinders which was perpendicular in relative direction.

All seats, walkways, restrooms, beds, etc had to be flipped about and had been designed for just that purpose. For the next 3 weeks the two kilometer long, hammerhead-shaped starship coasted out through the high zone and crossed over into the frontier of the star system where even Star Force had yet to travel. Another week of deceleration brought it to its final destination, entering orbit of the tiny planet on April 9.

Having expended a small lake’s worth of fuel to carry the ship out to this point, the Way of the Clans opened up its expansive cargo bays and began deploying dropships that travelled down to Goku’s icy surface. The sixteen of them landed softly in the 4.2% gravity, settling their golf ball shaped hulls down at three separate landing zones where they offloaded cargo and began making round trips back up to the ship to unload the entire hold.

Thanks to the low gravity a pair of crab-like work frames were dropped down to the surface via small maneuvering jets, whereupon they began drilling through the ice until they hit the metallic surface some 745 meters down. Unlike a lot of the other small planets in the high and outer zones, Goku was comprised of less rock than the others, making it more like Mercury in terms of composition and a definite mining hotspot if you could dig down through the ice to get at the true surface.

Intent on carving out a colony beneath the ice, the workers began enlarging the pair of shafts enough to install a portable lift to get larger pieces of equipment down to the slightly less cold metal/rock. Given the distance from the Sun the exterior of the planet was remarkably cold, but the external ice ‘ocean’ surrounding it allowed a bit of internal heat to remain, but nothing even remotely hot enough to melt the ice.

While the two coring teams continued their work the third landing zone was overrun by treaded ‘scrappers’ that were plowing out and leveling acreage upon which were placed prefabricated habitats that were interconnected with one another to form a small, makeshift city on the dimly lit world. The small running lights on the modules provided a pinprick of illumination to the Way of the Clans in orbit as a visible gesture of defiance against the great void in which the planet drifted and the first sign of civilization to grace the planet.

The starship remained on station for several weeks, insuring that the small colony got its footing before it recalled all temporary crews via one dropship, leaving the others on station, and departed back towards the middle zone where it would refuel and load up again, returning to Goku in just under 3 months time.

By the time it returned the 238 colonists had succeeded in hollowing out a sizeable cavern at the base of each drilling shaft, large enough to accept the heavy mining equipment and additional Clan workers that the starship brought back with it. At one site they began mining operations immediately, while at the other they carved out a footprint into the metal/rock in which they began building the foundations for a permanent habitat using the construction materials brought in the second cargo shipment.

The Way of the Clans second supply run also brought with it more prefab structures to expand the ice-top city made of living quarters and warehouses. Intended only as a long-term temporary base, the prefab city was intended to be completely dependent on cargo shipments for supplies while they slowly built up a more self-sufficient colony underneath the ice.

That endeavor would take years to achieve, but the persistence of the Clans made it happen. Using their ever growing resources, the unified Clan project built up Goku into a significant foothold housing more than 3,000 people at the end of its first decade. With the lessons learned there, and the addition of several more Bulma-class inter-planetary Clan starships, they expanded to the other three ‘pentagon’ worlds ringing the inner edge of the outer zone, which included Dysnomia that Clan Saber had succeeded in winning.

Paul had invited Jason, Greg, and Randy to help him colonize Eris’s moon while Star Force continued to expand their outpost on the planet below at a significantly slower rate. By the end of 2155, Dysnomia had a larger population than Eris did as the Clans continued to pour more and more resources into it and the other pentagon worlds, building them up and establishing more consistent trade routes out to them that culminated in a colonization jump out to a number of adjacent planets from each of the five footholds.

From Goku, their largest outer zone colony, the Clans expanded to a trio of planets which they likewise named for themselves. Tien was slightly larger than Goku, but made up of more ice and rock and subsequently had a lower gravity at 3.2%. It was a week’s travel away at moderate speed to the ‘upper left’ of Goku, if looking at an orbital map of the star system with Sol at the very bottom and Goku in the center.

To the upper right, slightly farther out than Tien was Trunks. It was twice the size of Goku and pure rock, sporting a magnetic field that suggested a liquid interior core and a sizeable amount of geothermal energy for such a cold region of space.

The third expansion planet in the Goku sector was Gohan, the smallest of the four but the only one with a moon that made it more of a double planet, with Krillin being 2/3rds its size and locked in a fairly close orbit.

Counting the moon, that was five planetoids in the Goku sector that the Clans had expanded into, though to date they hadn’t set up any infrastructure on Krillin. In the Dysnomia sector another three planets were added, with 4 more in Frodo, 6 in Bond, and 3 in O’Neill bringing the Clan holdings to 25 planets in the outer zone (technically Dysnomia was on the edge of the high zone) that they’d acquired without the help of Star Force or Davis, adding to the numerous partial holdings given to them in the more civilized regions of the star system.

As time passed by, each of the Clans grew into a nation of its own, rivaling many of those on Earth or the colonies that had sprouted up on Luna and Mars. The GDPs of all the Clans combined ranked them 8th in the system, and they’d accomplished that without resorting to trade. As per Davis’s rules they only interacted with other Clans, building everything they had obtained from scratch or winning it via the trials.

Then, in 2173, Davis announced Star Force’s expansion into the outer zone, tagging six planets for acquisition…two of which the Clans already possessed.

Greg, being stationed in Atlantis as was usual for him, drew the short straw by default and got to be the one to finally let Davis in on their secret before he wasted resources planning a pair of expeditions that weren’t necessary.

“Congratulations,” Davis said as Greg entered his office. “Clan Firestorm did surprising well, I’m told.”

Greg nodded his appreciation. “Thank you. That piece of Titan you put up for grabs was rather generous.”

“You can thank Tycho,” Davis said, referring to the independent colony on Luna. “They traded it back to us after the allotment in exchange for three new Jaguars. I figured the Clans would make more use of it than selling it off to another nation, given how aggressive your expansion has been.”

“Yeah…about that,” Greg said, sitting down opposite of Davis with a guilty look on his face. “We’ve been a bit more aggressive than you’re aware.”

Davis raised an eyebrow and leaned back in his chair. “How so?”

“We…beat you to the outer zone,” the Archon said bluntly.

Davis’s eyes narrowed, then a look of shock crossed his face as full realization of Greg’s statement hit him. “Colonies?”

“Yeah. Two of the planets you just announced Star Force is expanding to we’re already on. Gandalf and Bond.”

“Your naming, I presume?”

“Oh, sorry. You have them listed as Diva and Perrywinkle. We didn’t care for the lottery names.”

“Neither do I,” Davis admitted. “How much have you built up?”

“Actually, we have…23 worlds colonized, plus a moon we haven’t built on yet.”

“All of you together, or Clan by Clan?”

“We worked together, then began splitting up the holdings as they grew larger.”

“Population?”

“A little under three million combined.”

“And how long has this been going on?”

Greg cringed. “Over 30 years.”

Davis drummed the fingers of his right hand on his clear desktop. “I admit I’m a bit perturbed that you could have hid something like that from me for so long, but I also must say I’m thoroughly impressed and pleased, so you can banish the look of worry on your face.”

“You are?”

“Of course,” Davis said, standing and pointing out the window at Atlantis’s cityscape. “I’ve built all this up by myself. I assigned your Marquises as an experiment to see if anyone else could do the same. If you’ve managed to colonize 23 worlds behind my back, then the experiment has been more of a success than I anticipated. The further and further we spread out, the less operational oversight I’m going to have. I need people that I can trust to be able to handle the difficult tasks of building and growing colonies when I’m not able to look over their shoulders. The Clans were my first experiment to determine if this was possible or not. The apparent answer is yes…assuming your colonies aren’t withering?”

“No, no…they’re doing quite well,” Greg assured him.

“Now that the cat’s out of the bag, would you mind showing me some statistics?”

Greg smiled and dug a data chip out of his pocket and tossed it to the man. “Thought you might want a peek.”

Davis caught the chip and sat back down, plugging it into his terminal and bringing up a holographic map of the star system over his desk, noting the new additions on the periphery.

“I see you’ve targeted the closer ones.”

“Mordor is a bit out of our range right now.”

“True, but there are larger planets in between. What have you been using to get out there?”

“We built some new ships with greater range.”

“Paul’s handiwork, no doubt?”

“We all chipped in, but he and Jason were the ringleaders.”

“I hope he hasn’t been holding back on me,” Davis said, finding a subdirectory on the data chip that contained a ship list. The Bulma-class starship was the first of three new varieties that Davis noticed and he pulled up a schematic in holo.

“Hmmn…nothing too dramatic,” he said, seeing that the ship was somewhere between a medium and large inter-planetary starship in size, but with considerably more bulk wedged into the more compact design. In fact, he could see several design elements that Paul had helped his engineers incorporate into the new Asp-class transports. “But interesting none the less. You’ve built up quite a fleet for me not to have noticed.”

“A little sleight of hand with the transponder signals works wonders,” Greg admitted.

“So long as you’re the only ones that can accomplish it,” Davis warned, not wanting a weakness in Star Force for others to exploit.

“It was an inside job,” Greg assured him.

“And the reason for not letting me in on the secret?”

“We needed to get there first to plant the flag, else we would have had to wait for you to partition the planets up.”

“My, what greedy little Clans you are,” Davis teased. “And now, here I can’t split them up for national allotments.”

“You’ve allowed other nations to lay claim to territory they explored prior to Star Force’s arrival in the past, most notably the Corporate Alliance in the main asteroid belt.”

“Yes…which is why we’ve worked hard to stay ahead of them everywhere else.”

Greg offered a half smile. “And that’s why we couldn’t tell you.”

“I see. Outmaneuvered by my own Archons. What monsters I have created,” he said, beaming with pride. “Would you mind if I leapfrog off your existing supply lines to get to some of the more distant planets?”

Greg frowned. “Not at all, but there are dozens more on similar orbital tracks to what we’ve taken.”

“Stepping stones,” Davis explained. “My intent is to lay claim to all planets and asteroids within this system before moving onto the next. You’ve helped me more than you know, probably cutting a good 20 years off my estimates.”

“You’re welcome.”

“That said, we’d be working off a relay network rather than direct transit. I had expected to have a functioning gravity drive by the time we were ready to explore deeper, but I see no reason to wait if the Clans can provide the footholds…as well as the full blueprints for this Bulma-class cargo ship so I can put it into mass production. Tell me, I don’t see a carrier version. Do you have regional ships out there?”

“Each of what we’re calling clusters has at least a small shipyard to fill that capacity. The other ships on that list are what we’ve built on site for in-cluster use.”

“Five clusters then?”

“Yes, but each is bigger than the inner zone entirely, which is why a few new models needed to be designed.”

“So I see,” Davis said, zooming in on the map to the Goku cluster. “There are other planets within range that you could add, yes?”

“We’ve been cherrypicking what we wanted, but if we extend the range of the cluster networks, yeah, we could add more to them. Another option would be to create more clusters to fill in the gaps.”

“Which I intend to do,” Davis declared. “I like this cluster idea, even though in time the orbital drift will rip them apart. Do you mind?”

Greg saw him pointing at the map and nodded.

Davis used the keyboard to open up the editing function for the map and began tagging planets that had not yet been claimed. “New clusters…6,” he said, pinpointing one of the closest planets. “7, 8, 9, 10, 11, and 12.”

From there he went out to the original 5 clusters and beyond their furthest edges and tagged more of the tiny planets, forming a string out to one of the big ones. He repeated the process six more times, the last of which led all the way out to Mordor.

“If I establish these conduits,” Davis asked, looking up at Greg, “can the Clans expand into the rest of the system?”

Greg frowned. “You want us to?”

“I want all those planets in our hands, I don’t care in what form.”

“We’re not sharing them with the nations?”

“They don’t really care, to be honest,” Davis said, pointing to Neptune’s prescribed orbit. “Beyond this line they have very little interest due to the shipping costs. It’s to their advantage to build more orbital habitats than to try and grab up distant cold rocks to build on. There are a few exceptions, but the masses aren’t interested in what’s out there…yet. That may change if they find new value in it, but as far as the territorial allotments are concerned I’m stopping at Pluto. I can negotiate in private with the others if they want to continue expanding into the high zone and beyond.”

“You’re giving us a mandate then?” Greg asked.

“If you’ll accept it,” Davis said, standing again and crossing his arms over his chest. “I hereby appoint the Clans with the privilege and responsibility for laying claim to and colonizing all planets within the outer zone that I have not claimed here,” he said, pointing to the recently edited map. “You are to siphon off as much of Earth’s population as you wish via Project Exodus and take the lifeless wastes of the periphery and turn it into a bastion of civilization…before anyone else has the inclination to do likewise.”

Greg stood formally. “On behalf of the Clans, we accept this mandate. We also request additional supplies to assist with the establishment of transportation infrastructure.”

“Denied,” Davis said, smiling. “Get your own.”

Greg laughed. “That’s the way you want to play it then?”

“That’s the way I want to play it,” he confirmed. “It keeps with your standing rules of operation…and also consider it a form of payback for keeping me in the dark for so long.”

“Yeah, we had that one coming,” Greg admitted.

“Get to it then,” Davis said, sitting back down.

Greg smiled and turned to leave.

“Oh, one more thing,” Davis added. “The three Clans that impress me the most get first dibs at colonizing the next star system. I’ll send the particulars along later.”

“Biggest prize yet,” Greg noted. “That’ll keep us busy for a while.”

“I imagine it will,” Davis said, waving him off playfully. “Go. Claim us some more worlds.”

“Our pleasure, ilKhan,” Greg teased as he left, using the Battletech title of the ruler of all Clans.

As the Archon left Davis pulled up the data files that were attached to the holographic map and began studying in detail what his sneaky little supersoldiers and Marquises had managed to create on their own.

6

August 3, 2182

Taryn sat on the floor with her head between her feet, stretching out her limber body as she watched the sun rise from the observation dome at the peak of Clan Croft’s headquarters in Antarctica. She moved slowly from one pose to another in the pristine quiet, able to look at the slight blue light in the distance, then straight up through the clear dome at the stars overhead. Soon that blue light would morph into the orange of a rising sun, but for the moment the darkness still held sway.

As was her routine, Taryn went through her morning flexibility regimen before dawn, using the serene, spire-top platform as a personal retreat to clear her head, reflect, and plan for the future. She’d had the dome created for just this purpose years ago when the spire had originally been built and had insisted on an unobstructed view. The octagonal platform was the size of a basketball court and completely covered with a perfect half sphere of clear polymer several inches thick and hard as steel, which kept both the winds and the cold out, as well as protected against any low yield weaponsfire or debris.

The engineers had done good work, because on most days she couldn’t even see the material of the dome unless snow had stuck to the outside and today wasn’t one of those days. Comfortably warm, Taryn sat in various contorted poses feeling like she was outdoors…a mage atop a medieval castle practicing magic on a distant enemy.

With an unobstructed view of the horizon, the city beneath her was hidden by the platform that she sat in the approximate middle of. Clan Croft was one of the ‘homeworld’ Clans that had significantly built up their 250 sq mile plot in Antarctica and conducted business from that location rather than offworld like most of the others did. All Clans had established infrastructure in Antarctica, but most had simply used it as a springboard to other planets. Taryn’s Clan, along with a handful of others, had decided it would be a waste to squander their only territory on a habitable planet and had built up their infrastructure accordingly.

Croft Manor, as she’d aptly named her capitol city, was centered on the massive tower on top of which she now sat, and spread out around it in concentric circles with more and more rings of infrastructure added as the years passed. From high above the growing city looked like a target with an arrow hitting dead center, which the targeting specialist especially appreciated.

At present, Croft Manor was home to 11 million people, with another 253 million inhabiting the Clan’s holdings beyond the main asteroid belt, within which the Clans were forbidden to colonize save for their single plots in Antarctica. They weren’t the largest of the Clans, or the strongest, but they’d grown into a nation of their own with a solid tradition of marksmanship and overall quality of workmanship.

Croft Manor was the largest Clan city in Antarctica, which was a feather in their cap, but it was also the most densely constructed. Knowing that they had limited acreage to work with, Taryn had instructed her Marquis to plan ahead and make the most of what they had. As a result most buildings in the city were wide, high, and curved to match the concentric roads ringing the central tower that stood at least twice as high as the tallest buildings in the city.

Below ground they’d also expanded heavily, with a labyrinth of chambers going down several miles until the bedrock became unbearably hot, which denoted a bottom level to the ever expanding city. Both on the surface and below, Croft Manor’s footprint covered about a third of their assigned territory, which left them with considerable room to expand…but Taryn knew that eventually even that acreage would be eaten up and they’d be forced to look elsewhere for growth.

Though Clan Croft was designated as a homeworld Clan, they hadn’t scrimped on their offworld infrastructure. Taryn had been careful to consolidate her holdings via selective trials and trade with the other Clans into six locations. Jupiter’s moons of Io, Europa, Ganymede, and Callisto had been divvied up through national territorial allotments, but Star Force had still retained more than 60% for itself, part of which had been made available to the Clans in piecemeal allotments over the years. Clan Croft had focused on the largest of the moons, Ganymede, and established a sizeable foothold there, though it was fragmented into 3 different locations on the planetoid, each of which had been built up into individual cities similar in scope to Croft Manor.

Taryn’s people had also established two footholds in Saturn’s orbit…one on the atmospherically thick moon of Titan and another on the smaller moon of Iapetus. On Titan Clan Croft held its largest population spread across 12 distinct cities, having traded off a great deal of its other holdings for a piece of the higher gravity world that most of the other Clans eschewed because of the thicker-than-Earth atmosphere that required them to use specialized dropships to access the surface.

This also meant that Taryn could establish and field an actual aerial division for her Clan, whereas all trials in that discipline were simulations. Other than Earth, there was little use for that skill set save for Venus, which the Clans were forbidden from expanding upon. Given this fact, Clan Croft had developed some of the best aerial pilots within Star Force and used those skills to grab up some key trial wins, which they then traded off for the prizes they truly wanted.

Taryn had wanted to establish a foothold on Triton, the largest moon of Neptune, but had been unsuccessful in winning or trading for territory there. Instead they’d settled on Titania, the co-largest of Uranus’s moons but significantly smaller than either Ganymede or Titan. It had a diameter of 1,500 km, almost identical to Iapetus which rounded out to the same, though Titania was more dense, having a gravity of 3.8% while Iapetus only stood at 2.2%.

Both were too low for unassisted colonization…meaning gravity discs or cylinders had to be constructed on the surface. Ganymede and Titan each had gravities of 14% and sizes slightly larger than Luna, making them applicable for large scale colonization. These two moons held the bulk of Clan Croft’s population, while Iapetus and Titania were tagged as heavy mining sites, around which orbited the bulk of her Clan’s heavy industry.

The other two Clan Croft holdings were in the newly accessed outer zone. One foothold was on Thor, a mining heavy world with gravity at 5.4%, too small for colonization but Taryn had ordered orbital habitats built up around the planet to give the Clan a piece of the new pie being divvied up out there.

The 6th foothold Clan Croft possessed was the newest one. Through some careful negotiation and trade they’d acquired full rights to the tiny planet of Cam, also in the O’Neill cluster along with Thor. The planet only had a diameter of 1,100 km, but oddly enough it sported an atmosphere of Neon thicker than that of Mars and capable of reliable aerial flight, given the low gravity that was remarkably high at 6.2%...meaning that the planet had a significantly higher density than the others, making it a good proposition for a mining base.

Clan Croft had been set up on the odd little planet for the past 4 years, beginning to dig down and harvest its unusual collection of metals and ores. While the other Clans pressed on to more and more planets being opened up to their annexation, Taryn focused her Clan’s efforts on expanding their current holdings with additional infrastructure and population, especially on Cam. She liked that her Clan now had a world all to itself and had recently acquired the plans to a medium-sized Canderian station which she intended to replicate in orbit, which would allow her to establish a large civilian population despite the surface gravity being untenable for normal colonization.

  She’d resisted the urge to press on and grab up whatever new territories they could, knowing that her Clan could trade for some of them in the future if need be, but the real reason was staring her in the face each and every day.

Taryn lifted herself up into a handstand and held the pose for several minutes before flipping over onto her feet and stretching out her arms one last time before walking over to the edge of the spire-top platform. The sky to her left was now bright orange and the stars above her had vanished as the snowy landscape of the southern continent began to reveal itself in the distance, but everything beneath her as she looked down over the edge was cityscape stretching off several miles from her high point of view.

Impressive as that sight was, it wasn’t the impetus for her Clan’s self-appointed purpose. Further off on the horizon…beyond the land that belonged to Clan Croft…there were block-like buildings of ridiculous size sprouting up like huge ice cubes on Antarctica’s surface. Hundreds of miles away and still visible to the naked eye, the Star Force Project Exodus habitats served as monoliths marking the passage of Humanity offworld.

More than a billion and a half people had already been relocated by Star Force, all of them having transitioned through these processing centers where they were trained in the various skills necessary for life off Earth, a common language among them, then distributed out to a number of options, one of which was her Clan. She was proud to have attracted so many adventurous individuals over the hundreds of other choices available to them…which had been her intent all along. Clan Croft’s master plan was to hold the largest population of all the Clans, and then to press on to challenge the other colonies and nations on that front.

Taryn wanted more people under her care. She wanted to help them escape the crushing burdens of overpopulation here on Earth and to live a better life up there…all the while Star Force slowly sought to make changes down here. One of the options the colonists had to relocate was to stay in Antarctica in a new nation that Star Force had created and was growing. Through it Star Force was demonstrating to the Earthbound nations techniques and infrastructure capable of alleviating the problems that they faced by better organizing the overcrowded lands they currently held.

The aptly named city of Metropolis was now the largest on Earth…though that distinction was disputed, given that most of Earth’s other cities had spread out and encroached on one another to the point where massive stretches of the continents were one solid band of urban sprawl. That aside, Metropolis was a pearl of industrial and urban planning, jamming 330 million people into a region the size of the state of New Jersey, showing a planet sprawling with 16 billion people that the chaos could be combated with proper planning and infrastructure.

Clan Croft’s role was to drain off as much of that population as they could and incorporate them comfortably into their Clan, which was why each building in the city beneath her, as well as each building, facility, and ship in her Clan’s possession had been painstakingly designed to accommodate the highest numbers possible short of overcrowding. Taryn didn’t want her new colonists to trade one population crush for another, and made certain that her colonies had proper ‘breathing room,’ which was something she emphasized in their recruiting campaigns.

Whether that was the draw or something else entirely Taryn didn’t know, but they were coming to Clan Croft in droves, with each available lot filling up within days of its posting. She didn’t like the idea of having people waiting in line in those massive city-buildings on the horizon for slots to open up, so she’d resolved her Clan to a continuous construction campaign to open up as much room as they could to accommodate the would be colonists.

It wasn’t enough, she knew, because even as fast as Davis was expanding Project Exodus there were still people waiting to get in. The Director was growing the program aggressively, and she wanted her Clan to do its part in providing as big a siphon as possible to those successfully transitioning through the program.

Off to her right she could see another city-building halfway through construction, silently cursing the nations of Earth for their stupidity. Star Force was doing all it could but those who had caused the problem were slow to reciprocate. As usual the politicians were only concerned with their own aggrandizement and not the wellbeing of the planet, or even their individual nations, and as population growth rates continued to expand the time for graft-driven democracy was coming to an end, one way or another.

As Taryn stared out across the Antarctic landscape the sun finally broke over the horizon, followed a few seconds later by an animated Archon leaping up the tiny stairwell on the far side of the platform.

“Yes?” Taryn said, turning around to face Jenson-1174.

“Mining survey from Cam,” he said, handing her a datapad. “We’ve found some more unexpected compounds, including a metal the survey team couldn’t identify. They ran it through a more detailed analysis but still came up short…until they sent the data back to Atlantis for assistance.”

Jenson glanced at the datapad without saying anything more and Taryn followed his lead, reading down through the analysis provided by Davis’s top scientists.

“Corovon?!” she said, her breath catching in her throat for a second. “Is this confirmed?”

“Triple checked,” Jenson affirmed.

“What quantities?”

“A lot, and with the density of the planet…”

Taryn whistled as adrenaline shot through her veins. Corovon was an element not yet discovered on Earth, save for in some of the V’kit’no’sat technology. Unlike traditional elements, Corovon was not an atom, nor any combination of protons and neutrons. It was a completely different subatomic particle, smaller in size than a proton but more than twice its weight, that had the ability to bond to itself in infinite number, creating a type of metal made up, not of atoms, but of subatomic particles interlocked with one another.

This made for an extremely dense, heavy metal greenish in appearance and completely non-conductive. The hardest armor type known to the V’kit’no’sat was a corovon alloy, but even that type was rare, given that the substance was not readily available in the galaxy. A pure corovon armor would have been insanely strong, but prohibitively expensive, given that the subatomic particles were also capable of bonding with protons, adding a whole other section to the periodic table referred to as C-type elements.

These ‘cloned’ elements had Corovons bonding the protons together in the place of neutrons. For example, Lithia was the clone of Lithium, having 3 protons bound together with 1 corovon instead of 4 neutrons. Corovon had a much higher bonding rate than other subatomic particles, allowing it to form insanely large atoms in addition to the cloned elements, each of which had differing chemical qualities.

“If this is true,” Taryn said carefully, “then we’ve just turned a technological corner.”

“To put it lightly,” Jenson said with a laugh. “It also makes our Clan rich if all we are able to mine is a few backpack loads…which we’ve already collected, and then some. Not to mention that gravity drives require C-type elements.”

“Along with a lot of other V’kit’no’sat technology,” she pointed out. “Are we sure we’re sure about this?”

Jenson stared her in the eye dramatically. “We’re sure, Taryn.”

The Archon finally let a smile creep onto her face. “If this is true, then we’ve got a lot of work to do. Let’s get at it,” she said, abandoning the spire-top platform as the new day began, not only for Antarctica, but for Star Force at large, kicking off a new technological age that would eventually propel them out into the stars.

7

December 21, 2190

Jason yanked Eli down behind a barricade by the neck of his uniform a moment before three stingers flashed overhead and splattered a couple meters to their right.

“Higher elevation,” he reminded his Clansman.

“Thanks,” the second gen Archon said, crawling along the embankment extra low to not repeat his mistake. He held a shield strapped over his shoulder and a stinger rifle in his left hand as he worked his way forward along the low wall behind Jason as the rest of their 15 Clan members fought it out at range with Clan Humungousaur on a ‘capture the flag’ trial tournament on a course referred to as the ‘Ravine.’

Each team had a flag towards the top of one side of the ravine, which tapered down into a small flat section running across the middle as if it were a creek, but what it really was was a kill zone. 25 levels rose up on each side, none with any connecting stairwells or ramps and only a series of staggered barricades providing any cover. Jason and Eli had started up top on level 22 with the rest of their Clan at their flag position and had moved down to level 2 while the others sniped at the Humungousaurs, trying to pick a few off before they had to move in closer and battle it out hand to hand on the other Clan’s side.

The ravine wasn’t straight either. It meandered like a snake, cutting off the view of one end to the other. Jason and Eli had very slowly made their way toward one end of the course, then moved back to the other, dropping down at random spots and so far avoiding getting hit, but the stinger splatters to their right indicated that the Humungousaurs hadn’t lost track of them.

Jason crawled to the edge of one of the barricades, seeing a two meter gap to the next and a drop-off to the next level on his left through the gap. A solid white wall of firm padding ran along their right, forming the base of the level above them and offering only a few meters of maneuvering room on the level, making each a very long, snaking street.

Shifting his shield up onto his left shoulder Jason set himself then jumped forward, feeling an immediate impact on the barrier as he flashed across the gap and crashed down on the other side, starring up at the high ceiling of the sanctum chamber that orbited Mars. He flipped over and pulled his shield back to him, seeing several new paint splatters added to it. Last time he had dropped down to the next level one gap down while Eli had drawn fire…now it was time to mix things up again.

He nodded, setting himself as he looked back in Eli’s direction. Capping his head with his shield, Eli brought his rifle up and poked it through the gap above the barricade as stingers hit his position immediately.

As Eli fired back a few wild rounds Jason jumped back into the gap he’d just crossed, sliding feet forward but missing Eli’s position and instead sliding through the gap with his shield carried on his chest.

He fell hard, only partially catching his balance as his legs dropped off the edge but he fell down behind the barricade on the next level without getting hit, putting him one short drop away from the median ‘creek’ that ran between the towering sides of the ravine.  Getting to his feet he hunkered down behind the barricade, pressing his right shoulder up against it as he placed his flat shield up vertically in line with the barrier in front of him. Crawling forward on his knees, he placed his shoulder against the bottom of it and slid up, giving his head some cover while bringing his rifle up in his left hand and swinging it around the nook he’d just created.

He got a decent look at the position of two of the Humungousaurs and fired a few shots their way, making them duck for cover. Neither of them were Rex, his trailblazer equivalent in Clan Humungousaur and one of Greg’s 7s. That was good, because he’d told his Sangheili to keep Rex busy and away from his position as he tried to make his way across the gap.

In past challenges on this course, of which he’d only been a part of two, he’d played sniper while sending others into the gap or had waited while the other Clan tried an assault. This time he didn’t want to wait it out, knowing that this course could make for some very long challenges. None of the trailblazers liked this layout because it didn’t offer a lot of choices, and they resented the idea of just standing up and shooting at each other.

As such, they were always forcing themselves to try new ways of defeating the gladiatorial nature of the course and this was Jason’s latest idea. He was going in first, either succeeding in breaking through or causing the other Clan members to expose themselves to his own snipers as they took him down.

A loud thump from behind told him that Eli had made it down to level 1, one way or another.

“You alive?” Jason asked without looking back.

“Winged but functional,” he said, pressing in close behind Jason but below the edge of the barricade where the Humungousaurs several levels up couldn’t see them, though it was hard to hide from those up near the top because of the angle they had looking down. “Took a partial in the knee.”

“Take my shield,” Jason said, holding it in place until Eli could get a hand on it, then slithering back around to take his place on the opposite edge of the barricade some five meters back behind them.

“Ready when you are,” Eli whispered.

“Go,” Jason said, waiting a handful of seconds while Eli fired around the edge of Jason’s shield, keeping his head back far enough that it would be difficult for the Humungousaurs to realize they’d switched off. He held his position for a 10-count then stood up into the gap between barricades and ran down into the median, stepping off the edge and dropping half a meter to the smooth, glossy white floor, sprinting for the opposite side.

He angled his run to the right, because there was a barricade on the far side directly opposite the gap he’d come out. With his rifle held in a two-handed grip cross his torso, Jason ran and dove head first up onto level 1 on the Humungousaur side, sliding into the bottom of the wall and flipping over instantly. He was on his feet in a crouch in the blink of an eye and now well under the preferred firing angles above him.

“That went well,” he whispered, glancing right and left. There was a slight bulge to this side of the ravine, making either end of the mini-road he was on disappear in the distance, with him unable to see if he was the only one on this level…but it also meant that anyone else couldn’t fire back at him just yet.

A moment later Eli’s arm appeared on the far side, slinging his shield up and over across the median to a position on Jason’s right, with it successfully making it over the level 1 barricades. Jason scurried down to it and retrieved his heavy cover, then began moving quickly to keep the other Humungousaurs confused as to where exactly he was.

If the ruse has worked they still thought he was Eli, but that was merely icing on the cake. Now that he was across the rest of the Sangheili began moving down to lower levels, forcing the opposing Clan to either shoot at them or reposition to hit Jason, which a few of his well placed snipers would take advantage of. According to his plan he needed to keep things moving fast, as these challenges usually were long, ground out affairs. By altering the pace he’d throw the Humungousaurs a curve ball they didn’t expect.

Rex would adapt, he knew, so he had to move fast. Coming up to the next gap in the barricades above him he popped his head up to the next level, using his free hand for a bit of grip on the two meter high wall. Seeing the immediate area to his left was clear he repeated the hop to check the right…and nearly got hit in the head as a hunkered down Archon noticed him.

As Jason’s feet returned to the floor his rifle came up and with his third hop he poked it up and around the edge of the barricade above him and fired off two rounds at his opponent that had nowhere to hide.

To his credit, Jayden had thought to reposition himself half a meter to the left, forcing Jason to realign his shots from where he thought the Archon would be but it didn’t catch the trailblazer off guard. He’d been in so many firefights that his aim had evolved into a lazy general area lock until right before he pulled the trigger, during which he’d make the final adjustments rather than assuming where the target was and pinpoint aiming prematurely.

Jayden took a hit to his right arm, dropping his trigger finger away from his weapon as Jason’s second stinger hit him in the right pectoral. The Sangheili’s head disappeared from view as his hop stalled out and gravity pulled him back down. When he came back up a moment later he added two more shots into the falling Archon, insuring he was out of the action before he climbed up and ran down level 2 away from the main action, where he quickly ascended three more levels.

Behind him all hell broke loose as the Sangheili charged forward, hopping down from cover to cover like a hesitating waterfall, firing as they came. In response the Humungousaurs tried to snipe them, but had to pull up out of cover far enough that two of them took hits from Jason’s men that really were deployed as snipers up on the higher levels. Seeing that they were screwed one way or another the Humungousaurs decided to meet the opposing Clan in close quarters and began dropping down towards the median before the Sangheili could get across.

Several Archons went down on both sides to snipers…then the snipers began pinpointing each other and started occupying each other’s attention as the bottom three levels became a crisscrossing mesh of stinger paint, covering the pristine white padding with a hoard of green splatters.

Jason scaled the opposite side of the ravine at random points, moving up as fast as he could and taking down two more Humungousaurs in the process. He didn’t meet up with Rex during his ascent, which both pleased and worried him…for if he wasn’t hot on his heels what else was he up to?

Jason arrived on the 22nd level on the flank and approached through eerie silence as he stalked around the slight curves of the snake-like layout until he came to the entrance of the alcove that had been cut out of the three higher levels, giving the defending Clan excellent sniper positions to fire down on anyone foolish enough to make a run for the finish pedestal that had a holographic red flag waving above it.

With no one in sight guarding the entrance to the alcove Jason got a very bad feeling creeping up his spine but he knew better than to slow down and give his opponents more time to react to his presence. He approached with caution, shield held in front of him to defend against the most obvious firing angles, but he didn’t run across any of the Humungousaurs, making him think they’d all gone down low to join in the ongoing melee or maybe to make a run at their flag…in which case he really did need to hurry.

The trailblazer stopped short at the entrance to the alcove, poking his left flank around into view with his shield pressed up against his torso for protection, but he didn’t draw any fire. He jumped out then back into cover experimentally, but still no stingers flashed his way. He also caught a full glimpse of the empty alcove. The Humungousaurs had left no guards inside.

He jumped out again, this time with his eyes focusing upwards to the level cutouts where snipers were likely to be hiding but he couldn’t find any, nor did he draw any fire.

Checking his flanks again, he steadied himself. This was either extremely good fortune or Rex had a trap in store for him. Either way it was time to find out.

Jason jumped out again, but this time ran forward, huddling behind his shield for maximum cover as he bolted for the button on top of the finish pedestal. As his mind was already halfway there he felt his legs go out from under him a split second before he blacked out, falling on top of his shield and knocking his safety glasses off as his head hit the padded ground.

Rex smiled when he heard the proximity mines go off, knowing that Jason hadn’t thought to look for the small stinger devices placed on the inside of the alcove entrance, too eager to get to the flag just meters ahead. He didn’t have to see the evidence, the lack of a finish tone told him that Jason was down and his primary threat to his flag had been eliminated.

Patience, Rex knew, was the key to winning this challenge. While his Clan was down low fighting it out he stayed safely placed up on level 25, unarmed, waiting for the right moment. In exchange for using the proximity mines he’d had to forego his typical armaments. He didn’t even have a shield, but he knew that there would be equipment enough for him to grab below, so when the sounds of fighting had died down he crept out of his hiding place and carefully took a look at the far side.

What he saw was one remaining sniper, firing down on a few of the remaining Humungousaurs that were dug in opposite the last of the Sangheili. Keeping down and out of sight, Rex moved over and down a few levels to the position of one of his own snipers, finding her unconscious from a head shot that had covered half her face with paint.

He picked up her sniper rifle and very slowly brought it up into firing position, sighting the Sangheili sniper without alerting him to Rex’s presence. One shot was all he needed and the Archon went down, having been elevated too much and exposing his torso to Rex as he poached the last of his men.

Dropping the large, cumbersome weapon the trailblazer picked up his sniper’s pistol and began stalking the last two Sangheili who were now climbing up his side of the ravine and heading for his flag. Patient not to give himself away, and with him eliminating the opposing sniper who could no longer warn his Clansmen of the Humungousaur’s presence through suppressive fire, Rex snuck up and tagged one of them in the chest as he hauled himself up to level 16, falling back down the way he came.

The other Rex had to slug it out with, her having seen him coming. His pistol fared better in the close confines than her rifle and he nailed her on the go, rushing her position and slipping over the side of a barricade, dropping to the level below where she was hunkered up and rendering her unconscious before he hit the ground with a pair of shots to the chest and shoulder.

He hit hard though, having focused entirely on his shots as he fell. His elbow jammed into the tight pads and forced his left arm up, punching himself in the face. Disoriented for several seconds afterwards, Rex finally cleared his head and got up, rubbing his jaw as he wondered how in the hell he’d managed to land like that. He climbed down the levels with impunity, knowing that everyone else was stunned unconscious and that all he had to do was climb up the far side and tag the finish button.

He wasn’t going to go straight in the alcove, however. He’d come down from above and check for any booby traps like he’d set on their flag. This challenge was all but over, so there was no need to be hasty and risk screwing it up now.

He passed across the median without incident, keeping an alert eye out in case he’d missed someone. Rex stepped over several downed Humungousaurs on the opposite side, seeing that they’d successfully made it across before being gunned down. He stepped respectfully over their bodies and moved up another level, finding two Sangheili lying in a mess of paint.

“Ouch,” he said sympathetically, knowing that they’d have a headache afterwards. Getting hit by that many rounds would leave them with pins and needles at least for a few hours after the destunning serum was administered.

As he stepped over the pair a hand shot out and grabbed his leg, pulling Rex down on top of one of the men as he rolled over, pinning the trailblazer against his chest as the Sangheili’s other arm came up holding a pistol that he pointed back down at himself and Rex, firing three point blank shots into the Humungousaur’s chest.

Rex blacked out after the second shot, but the third saturated him with so much stun energy that some of it bled through and into the already half stunned Sangheili below him, rendering him unconscious along with everyone else in the chamber.

“That did not just happen,” one of the course operators said from the observation booth.

“I think it did,” his counterpart said, laughing loudly.

“What do we do, call it a draw?”

The other man shook his head firmly. “No draws. We wait it out.”

“Until they wake up?”

“The stun will wear off eventually,” the more experienced operator explained. “Wanna place a bet on who gets up first?”

“That would depend on who got hit the least.”

“Come on, choose a man…or a side.”

“No thanks,” the junior operator said, not having a clue.

“Twenty credits says Jason wakes up first.”

The other man frowned. “Why him?”

“I’ll let you figure that one out on your own,” the man said smiling as he leaned back in his chair with his hands behind his head in a comfortable pose, indicating that they might have to wait a while to see this challenge play out.

His head awash, Jason slowly returned to consciousness enough to realize that he wasn’t fully awake. Knowledge of that fact prompted him to try and wake himself, and on the third try he succeeded in blinking open his blurry eyes.

The input of vision data to his brain jolted his consciousness up a bit, but he was still super groggy. He fumbled around a bit, unable to feel most of his limbs other than a faint tingling sensation that gradually morphed into the uncomfortable pins and needles associated with the destunning process.

This wasn’t what it felt like when he usually woke up, and eventually his brain wrapped itself around the fact that he hadn’t been destunned. He was processing out the stun energy naturally, which was why he was so out of it.

He twisted and jerked around his numb body enough to roll himself off his face and tried to blink away the haze seeming to swirl around his head. After a few minutes he was able to roll over onto his shoulder and partially right his head, looking at the ground and paint-splattered walls and let his eyes gradually refocus.

When he partially got his bearings he scrimped up using phantom limbs and contorted himself around and up into a sitting position with his torso hanging over heavily as he looked down at his bent and paint-splattered legs that he still couldn’t feel. He poked a calf with his finger, realizing that he couldn’t feel his finger either, seeing it bend on contact but making no sensory contact with it.

Where’s my injection? he wondered, slowly moving his head around and flexing his hands, trying to get some feeling back into them. His neck, back, and upper arms felt like they’d turned into pin cushions and he knew it’d only get worse as the rest of his body caught up.

Jason blinked multiple times, able to finally feel his eyelids as his body’s nervous system began to reassert control of his body. He readjusted his sitting position into a cross legged pose, having to push his legs into the approximate arrangement to take pressure off his back. As he did so he noticed the glowing red flag waving over the pedestal a few meters to his left.

I’m still live, he suddenly realized, the adrenaline of which helped clear his mind a bit further. He reached out with his right arm, but could only bring it up half way, feeling nothing from the movement. His legs wouldn’t move at all, but his abs were still partially working so he tipped himself over onto his side and used what little movement his arms were capable of to worm his way over to the pedestal, placed his back against it, and wiggling up into a sitting position after several futile tries.

He twisted his right shoulder against the pedestal then tried to lift his left arm up, not making it past horizontal. Jason tried a second time, failing again, then attempted to get some momentum into his arm swing, forcing it up off the ground as fast as he could. It rose up in a 45 degree angle then smacked back down on the floor with a loud ‘whack,’ but he still couldn’t feel a thing.

He wanted to laugh, but that required more muscle coordination than he had available at the moment. Noting the ironic similarity to the ‘man in black’ from the Princess Bride, he swung his arm up again three more times with it almost reaching the tipping point before slamming back down to the ground.

Resting a bit, then focusing as much energy as he could, Jason swung his arm up again, seeing it top out and gently tip over in the right direction. He tried to control his hand’s fall as much as he could without being able to see where it was landing, nor feel what it was landing on.

The room’s lighting shifted over to a blue hue, indicating that the challenge had been completed as Jason stared at the crook of his arm for what felt like an eternity before a cool jet of relief finally flowed into his arm, spreading throughout his body bringing it uncomfortably back to life with a rush of a thousand pins and needles. A few seconds later most of those disappeared and he found himself able to stand, though a firm hand initially helped him to his feet anyway.

“What happened?” he asked the medic.

“You took each other out,” the man said with a smile as he moved on in the wake of two others that had emerged from a hidden door behind the pedestal. “Then you woke up and captured the flag.”

“Well that’s a first,” Jason said, pleased but a little freaked out at the same time. As he looked around he noticed the two proximity grenades attached to the inside of the circular alcove’s walls on either side of the entryway.

“Doh,” he said, mentally kicking himself for walking into that.

8

After a shower and a quick lunch Jason stopped by his temporary quarters in the sanctum for a brief nap before the finals of the tournament would take place that afternoon against Clan Ninja Monkey. As it was, the Sangheili already had the trial won by racking up enough points on the earlier challenges so that not even if Morgan’s Clan got the bonus points for beating them in the finals would they be able to overcome their points lead. Overcoming Clan Humungousaur had secured the trial win and the Pluto micro-territory for the Sangheili…the finals match was just a formality, but one Jason wanted to win. Going up against Morgan was always a stiff challenge.

Before Jason crashed for a powernap he checked the newsfeeds and his inbox, finding a new video message from Paul. His friend hadn’t accompanied his Clan’s detachment for the trial, instead heading off to Atlantis on some urgent business.

Paul’s face appeared on the video screen, equal in size to Jason’s so that it looked like the Archon was sitting across a window pane a meter away as the message began to play.

“You’re probably wondering why I skipped out on the Mars trial,” Paul began to explain as Jason noticed the backdrop of a research facility behind his friend. “I got a call from research and development on a breakthrough that I had to check out for myself.”

The screen view shook as Paul detached the portable camera and walked it across a wide open floor to a test device in the center that looked like the lid of a trash can. Paul and the camera both dropped to the ground with the Archon positioning the view so Jason could look under it.

“Notice anything?” Paul asked as he swung his arm underneath the device without encountering any resistance. The circular ‘lid’ was floating perfectly still a quarter meter off the floor.

“Son of a bitch,” Jason whispered. “They finally did it.”

“As you’re probably wondering by now,” Paul continued, panning the camera closer to the device, both on top and underneath to give Jason a composite view, “this isn’t phase one, it’s phase two.”

On the screen Paul’s image touched a handheld remote and the device levitated upwards another meter, bringing it up to almost shoulder height before another button press stopped its ascent.

“Yeah, I thought that’d get your attention,” Paul said as Jason leaned forward, his mind fully blown. Star Force had been working long and hard to create a phase 1 gravity drive, so far without success. It was no wonder Paul had skipped out on the trial and went to directly to Earth. If they had an applicable prototype then they were mere years away from a total revamping of their engine systems, both in space and on the surface.

But what was even more significant was that Paul had said, and shown, that this was a phase 2 device. Jason didn’t see how that was possible, unless the techs had been holding back on them for years.

“No, the research team hasn’t been holding out on us,” Paul said, guessing Jason’s response. “Turns out the upgrade wasn’t so hard as the initial creation. They got a prototype for the enhancement up and running before full testing on the phase 1 device was completed so they went ahead and combined the two before notifying me. We now have repulsion enhancement up to 220 times, but nothing on attraction enhancement.”

Jason nodded, knowing that didn’t matter right now. A phase 1 gravity drive was a device that reversed the gravitational polarity of a core component within the drive so that gravitational fields repelled it instead of attracting. The stronger the gravity, the more the repulsion in a 1:1 ratio. It was basic anti-gravity technology that Star Force had been vying to create for over 100 years, and now with C-type elements available en mass they’d finally been successful.

As significant of a breakthrough as that was, it was relatively meaningless with regards to technology. The gravity drive was limited in propulsive power to the inverse of the gravitational attraction of the drive’s core…meaning that a device with a core weighing 1 kg would only produce sufficient lift to negate 1kg of machine and leave it ‘floating’ in null g. If the engine itself weighed more than the core it wouldn’t float, let alone be able to lift anything else.

Furthermore, if an engine was constructed whose core weighed more than the rest of the components then it would be able to lift off and fly away from a gravity well…but at only 1 speed. You’d have an ‘on’ and ‘off’ control, but that was it. Not very effective or reliable, but it was possible to launch a tiny object into space in this manner, though it wouldn’t be able to make orbit given the lack of lateral acceleration. It made for a good proof of concept project, but little else.

Phase 2 called for the creation of an anti-gravity engine that could enhance the repulsive force of the drive core, meaning that it would repel in greater force than its mass would otherwise have allowed. This, Jason had originally thought, would be infinitely more complex, but according to Paul it surprisingly hadn’t been, meaning that Star Force right now had a prototype anti-gravity engine that could lift more than its own weight…as well as modulate the force to balance out with the cargo weight to maintain altitude, as Paul had demonstrated with the prototype floating beside him.

“We should be able to enhance that number significantly with a few model revisions. The basics of the technology aren’t hard to grasp past this point, but our fabrication techniques are going to have to get smaller…on a nanite-like level. The drive cores on the V’kit’no’sat technology are so dense that we can’t analyze their components, so we’re stuck with working off blueprints. Ours is gigantic in comparison, so we’re going to have to scale our assembly down a lot before we can even think about building an effective gravity drive, but our Vtols’ engines should be able to be swapped out or at least augmented with what we have here…with a few tweaks.”

Again, Jason followed his friend’s line of thought almost as if it were him speaking the words. An anti-gravity engine and gravity drive were the same thing, technically speaking, but the term ‘gravity drive’ was most often used with starships, whereas anti-gravity was more of a surface term for craft that floated above the ground. In that case, the gravity drive would simply hold the craft aloft while providing occasional lift and descent, with the speed across ground of, say, a Mantis, being provided by convention engines.

In a starship the gravity drive was the propulsion…or most of it anyway. Lateral maneuvering would remain the purview of plasma or other thrust-based engines while linear acceleration away from a gravity well would be accomplished via the gravity drive. This meant that a starship leaving Earth for Mars could, if properly aligned on a ‘jumpline’ from the center of one planet to another, accelerate by forcing Earth’s gravity to push them away towards their target…coast…then push against Mars’ gravity to decelerate.

The calculations would be a headache, given that you also had to account for other gravitational forces from the Sun and other planets that would push you off that line, because the anti-gravity core would repel from all gravitational forces exerted on it, no matter how small. A phase 3 engine would have the ability to isolate individual gravity wells for propulsive use, but that was a whole other level above their tech rating at this point.

“Better yet,” Paul continued, “I had an idea on the way over on how to make use of limited phase 2 tech and it occurred to me that we might be able to employ it on some of our low gravity worlds to support an orbital tether, ala the Halo version.”

Jason’s jaw dropped. What Paul meant by an ‘orbital tether’ was an extremely tall tower reaching up into space whose farthest end would actually reach geosynchronous orbit. An elevator car could then, in theory, rise up the shaft and deliver cargo to orbit without having to use a dropship. The sheer number of miles of tower involved in building such a device was prohibitive, technologically speaking, even if they constructed the whole thing out of Herculium alloys, for there was no way to anchor the opposite end.

The otherwise rigid structure would bend from the planet’s rotation, tipping it sideways and ‘wrapping’ it around the planet in a spectacular crash, supposing of course you managed to erect one in the first place. Gravitationally locked moons, like Luna, had no rotational speed, which was why only one side of the planetoid was visible on Earth. The tiny differences in gravitational pull from the near side to the far side had, over time, slowed whatever rotation Luna had until it now matched up perfectly with its companion planet.

What rotation was attributed to Luna came from the fact that it was orbiting Earth and in doing so changed its orientation to the Sun as it maintained its orientation to the planet…which was what gave Luna its long day/night cycle. This did not produce a centrifugal force due to Earth’s gravity locking the moon in place, so in theory a orbital tether could work on Luna if you could get a structure stiff enough to support its own weight…which was extremely unlikely.

That gravitational locking, however, would also mean that no geosynch orbit could be achieved because the top of the tower wouldn’t be moving so any docking ships would still be falling down to the surface rather than floating. Rotation would cause the tower to crumple, no rotation would cause the ships to fall. Like the old cliché said, ‘Damned if you did, damned if you didn’t.’

But by placing anti-gravity engines along the mass, one could effectively lower the ‘weight’ of the tether, meaning less structurally sound materials could be used to create a similar length, or a greater length with stronger materials. Either way, a series of anti-gravity nodes along the tether could lift it enough to make the project feasible in gravitationally locked bodies.

As Jason’s mind raced he also realized that it might be able to work on the smaller rotating planets because a large anti-gravity anchor at the far end would keep the whole assembly taught in a straight line. Any tipping would mean the anchor had to travel closer to the surface, so the anchor would then repel up to the highest point which would preserve the straightest line possible.

“I know they’re a strategic weakness,” Paul continued, “but I think we’ve got to be able to find some location where they can be useful. I’ve also been thinking of using more flexible materials coupled with a powerful anti-grav anchor that could pull the tether up and out from a planet if it was broke in two rather than having the whole thing crash down. It’d depend where the break occurred, but it could minimize some of the damage. Anyway, just a thought. I’ll keep working out the bugs, but I think the Clans would be the best place to build an experimental version…on a mining planet without the surface facilities for us to smash if we mess it up.”

“I’m going to stick around Atlantis for a while and help move the project along through the conceptual phase. Any suggestions would be appreciated. If this works out like I think it will, we’ll have some new toys to play with shortly,” Paul finished with a smile before cutting the camera feed.

“No kidding,” Jason said, thinking through the possibilities. Anti-gravity technology employed on the surface was almost limitless in its applications, but if they could get a functional gravity drive on a starship then that would be the pinnacle game changer. Without having to rely on inertial thrust a starship would have an insane range, limited only by the power required to run the gravity drive.

The Bulma-class transports that the Clans currently used to access the outer zone had a huge fuel reserve onboard the size of a small lake because all that mass would be propelled out the engines over time in an equal and opposite reaction. The faster they could expel the material, the more thrust they would get out of it, but the basic principle held that the only way you could move through a vacuum was by throwing off bits of your ship in the opposite direction…and eventually you’d run out of pieces to throw.

That’s why Star Force had built up such an extensive refueling system and had been able to extend its transportation network far beyond what any other nation or corporation had managed on its own. Infrastructure was the way Star Force had combated the fuel limitations, but now their hands were going to be freed up and they’d be allowed to expand much, much further.

The outer zone was going to become next door, with the colonization rush spilling out to the soon to be easily accessible planets. Jason was glad the Clans had gotten a head start in colonizing the area, but there were still dozens of planets they hadn’t set foot on yet. They’d figured they had plenty of time to get around to them, given that it was the frontier of the system and hard to get to, but within a decade or so Davis’ people were going to be able to go where they liked without having to rely on the Clans.

And when that happened, other nations were going to want access as well.

Jason chewed on his lip, thinking hard. The Clans had a lot of planning to do if they wanted to stay ahead of this, not to mention brainstorming ways to implement the new technology that would be coming down the pipe…and he knew Paul would find some way to make the orbital tethers a reality, he could sense it in his tone. Whenever they had a chance to take something from Halo or Star Wars and make it a reality they were almost compelled to do so.

Jason blinked, realizing that the anti-gravity engines meant that they could build Ghosts, Banshees, Phantoms, and other Halo hovering craft. More than that, a lot of the starships in Star Wars that took off and landed on planets, including Star Destroyers, were now technically possible to make. The idea of putting one of their battleships down on the surface of a planet was laughable in the past, but now they were going to have to rethink everything. Even the spaceport/dropship/starport ‘conduit to space’ that Davis had engineered as the linchpin of Star Force infrastructure could be going by the wayside.

Knowing that there was no way he was going to get a nap in now with his mind racing with ideas, Jason pulled up a blank datasheet and began organizing his thoughts, which he would share with Paul later…starting with a floating training turret that resembled Obi-wan’s orb from Star Wars IV.

9

February 2, 2198

Gary Brooks sat on a train with hundreds of other would be colonists looking out the windows at the snow-covered southern continent as it flashed by at more than 200 mph as they traveled from the port city of Nautilus out to one of Star Force’s ‘city-buildings’ where Gary and the others would begin their training and testing. If all went as planned, he’d be available for colonization allotments within a year’s time...two at max.

He’d arrived via cruise ship to the entertainment/resort city of Nautilus, which had become the planet’s #1 tourist destination since Star Force had built it 30 years ago and jumped ship upon arrival, cancelling his ticket for the return arc of the cruise after securing a slot in Project Exodus with a simple inquiry at the nearest Star Force information kiosk. He’d been politely directed through all the chaos that was the Star Force information network to the application process site that had been set aside for skilled individuals separate from the national quotas that Star Force used to choose who would be able to get in and who couldn’t.

Normally those national slots were chosen by the host country, filled by either lottery or graft…though Star Force quickly shut down any instances of the latter. The idea was to move a significant portion of the planet’s population offworld, not cater to the rich who had the luxury of buying living space. Gary had badly needed this vacation, but the prospect of returning to Philadelphia and his tiny apartment, surrounded by people at every turn with no room to breathe by yourself was untenable. He’d put up with it before because he had to, but now that he’d gotten away from it all for a couple of weeks he couldn’t bring himself to go back.

He’d considered moving to a rural area of Pennsylvania, or even another state, but those areas were quickly disappearing and his skill set demanded an urban environment, meaning he wasn’t likely to find a job out in what now amounted to the suburbs of the megacities unless he wanted to switch career fields.

He’d been tempted to, at times, but he had always been a neurosurgeon and he couldn’t see himself doing anything else so that meant he was stuck in the omnipresent urban jungle until the day it killed him…which didn’t feel so far off.

Gary had hoped that the application process would take into count his medical skills, as he’d heard rumors of previously, but it wasn’t until he got back the almost instantaneous confirmation that he allowed himself any glimmer of true hope, expecting to have it dashed like so many other times in the past.

Gary had urgently asked the attendant to confirm that his selection was valid, which the man did with a knowing smile on his face, tapping a few keys and bringing up a full readout of the candidate selection manifest and showing him where his name was now added and how to access his instructions for relocation.

The neurosurgeon had quickly recorded the information and scrambled off to pack up his things on the cruise ship, inform the deck manager that he was staying in port, contact his landlord and employer back in Philly to cancel his lease and submit his resignation, and get across the city to the processing center where flight after flight of inbound potential colonists were arriving. He mixed in with the hundreds of thousands of people milling about in what amounted to the largest airport on the planet until he found his assigned registration desk. From there he checked in and the Star Force staff quickly moved him through a security checkpoint into another portion of the facility.

He’d had to abandon most of his luggage there, able to only take with him a few pocketfuls of essential medication as his handlers insisted that everything he was going to need would be provided on site. It was disconcerting enough to have left so many personal items back in the states, but to board a train for a completely new destination with only the clothing on your back was quite another matter. It was both frightening and liberating as he watched the miles of Antarctica seemingly wash away his past life in a dizzying hurry as his train sped off to new horizons.

There wasn’t much scenery to break up the white expanse, only little bits of elevation here and there. If it hadn’t been for several rocky outcroppings it would have been hard to make a guess as to their speed, for compared to the huge facilities dotting the distant landscape they seemed to be moving very, very slowly.

The trick of the illusion became apparent as his train curved off at a branching point and headed for one of the giant cubes that was to be his city-building. The size didn’t fully register until its width spread out to cover the entire forward horizon, rising up into the sky higher than he could see from his window. Only after a very long period of expansion did the cube seem to scare the train into slowing down, with it creeping inside through one of many tiny holes at the very bottom of the exterior where several other trains dotted in and out like miniature snakes.

Gary rubbed the solid bracelet he wore around his left wrist. It had been permanently attached when he went through the security station and held all of his identification materials on an internal computer chip. He knew that without it he would be lost amongst the masses Star Force was recruiting, which made him glad that it didn’t have a latch that he could take it off with, no matter how much it was causing him to itch.

His train slid through a claustrophobic tunnel at remarkably high speed until it opened out into a long unloading area and came to a stop with all 52 cars opening up to waiting platforms. Gary stood immediately, but was forced to wait while the inner aisles cleared before he could nudge his way into the line leading out through the one and only exit his car had, which was opposite the side on which he sat.

Star Force personnel kept the line moving swiftly and soon Gary stepped outside and marveled at the size of the chamber that housed not only the entire length of his train, but what looked to be at least three other trains stretched out parallel to each other, all offloading would be colonists.

He couldn’t gawk for long because the line kept moving fast, with his train disappearing behind him before he got down off the wide platform and followed the line to another processing station where their wristbands were being scanned. Each person was then loaded into a tiny elevator and shot off to who knew where. Gary figured each one was going to a separate location, based on their skills, but he didn’t know for sure. When he got up to third in line he heard a woman complaining in what he thought was Spanish to the Star Force handler.

The man took the verbal assault in stride and calmly directed her into the elevator and shut the door on her shrilling voice, then sent her off through the transit system to where her tag required.

Gary was more patient, letting the man scan his wristband and enter the appropriate information before saying anything. “I hope you know where you’re sending me, young man.”

“It’s my business to know,” he replied politely, then sealed Gary in. A moment later he felt his feet drop out from under him as the phone booth shaped pod descended to an interior track that then whisked him off at a reasonable pace elsewhere in the gigantic facility.

He couldn’t see anything, for the elevator had no windows, but there was a small diagram on the wall that tracked his progress with a long line that indicated where he was going and a small dot that showed where the elevator was at all times. To his eyes it was moving very slowly, but the slight ‘whirring’ sound outside suggested otherwise.

When his ride ended the doors opened to reveal more Star Force handlers, one of whom escorted him into some sort of a lounge with several dozen other people waiting, all of whom looked to be on the middle to upper end of society.

“Wait here until your personal attendant arrives, then they’ll show you to your quarters and get you set up with everything you need.”

“Thank you,” Gary said, taking a seat next to a woman half his age as she watched a newscast on a nearby wall monitor.

“Hello,” she greeted him, turning away almost as soon as she said the word.

“Hello,” he offered in return, sensing that she was merely being polite rather than wishing to strike up a conversation. Instead he focused on the newscast, trying to calm some of the agitation washing through his system.

Less than a minute later an attendant arrived and whisked one of the others away, followed by two more within the next thirty seconds, suggesting to Gary that he wouldn’t be sitting here for too long.

“On the technology front,” the newscaster said alongside a symbol that read ‘breaking news,’ “Star Force has just released a bombshell that analysts say will revolutionize the space industry. According to their reports, which we have no reason to doubt given their track record, they’ve succeeded in creating an artificial gravity device…and no, we’re not talking about centrifugal force or any other spinning contraption. We’re talking straight up sci-fi, walk on the ceiling type artificial gravity,” he said as the image cut to what was file footage provided by Star Force.

 “The gravity device,” a Star Force scientist was explaining to the camera as another man walked forward along a line painted on the floor of a large, white-tiled room, “insulates one from all other gravity fields as well as reflecting the artificial field inside back on itself, allowing the strength of the localized field to build rather than reaching all the way out to the next star system as gravity normally does.”

The man followed the line until he approached a wall and jumped up, kicking his legs out underneath him as he passed a faint hash mark on the floor. Once past that mark his body was sucked up to the wall where the line now reached up to the high ceiling. The man staggered a bit but caught his balance, then casually walked up the wall as if the camera was now looking down on him from overhead.

“We can adjust the level of gravity inside to more or less than 1 g, depending on our needs, though more gravity requires more power. For civilian applications 1 g will be standard in most cases, but for some industrial processing multiple g’s will be required, and this technology will be able to meet those demands.”

“As you can see,” he said as the man transitioned again, stumbling to the ‘ceiling’ as he started to walk back towards the scientist following the same line that’d begun on the floor, “there is a moment of transition between the two fields, which must be created along a straight line. Curves we can’t do, but then again a floor is not meant to be curved, is it?” he said, reaching up over his head as he handed the man a small ball, who likewise reached ‘up’ to take it.

“The body isn’t harmed by transitioning between the fields, though it does feel a bit odd as you’re pulled in two directions. Observe where the field ends.”

The upside down man tossed the ball up over his head a few inches, then it fell back ‘down’ into his hand. He repeated the throw several times, increasing the height until it finally caught the edge of the field at the peak, seeming to pause as if it didn’t know which way to go, then fell back down into the scientist’s hand.

“We can make the fields whatever size and shape we want, based on a cubical structure,” he explained, reaching his other hand up and locking his grip on the man’s extended limb, holding tight as he pulled taught. Using the leverage the upside down man jumped, bringing his knees up towards his face as his upper body moved across the edge of the field. With a hefty pull from the scientist he completed his half spin and landed feet first on the floor, stood up, and brushed himself off theatrically.

The scientist smiled. “Welcome to the future, my friends.”

“Mr. Brooks?”

The voice caused Gary to snap out of his zonal attachment to the screen, realizing that the woman beside him was gone and that an attendant was calling his name.

“Here,” he answered.

“Follow me, please,” she said, leading him down a series of hallways then into another elevator, this one larger and more typical of a residential building. “What we are in now is called a quarters block. It will be your home for the duration of your stay, however long that may be. Food will be provided in various cafeterias, one of which is just a couple minutes walk away, and clothing and personal supplies will be available for your purchase using allotted nonmonetary credits. Don’t worry, you’ll have more than you need, we just use the credit system to ward off any hoarding habits.”

The elevator opened and she walked out ahead of him into an open courtyard up around which rose 12 square-shaped rings centered on a water fountain that shot up half that height then fell back down into a pool that covered part of the floor, around which were various benches and potted plants.

“Your quarters are on the 7th floor,” she explained, leading him over to a set of stairs. “There is a small elevator on the opposite side if you need to use it, but it’s better if you get used to taking the stairs. One part of the acclimatization process is getting potential colonists in better physical shape, which is why we have four staircases as opposed to one elevator.”

“Will there be physical training?” Gary asked, a bit worried.

“Yes, but don’t worry. Each person starts at their current ability level and works their way up. There are no group sessions you have to survive. Your personal trainer will take you through all that later, but I can promise you that men twice your age have gone through the process without trouble.”

“Pride successfully piqued,” Gary congratulated her.

“Motivation comes in all forms,” she said with a smile as they climbed the stairs up to his level. When they got up the seven flights he was winded, but tried not to show it as the woman didn’t look like she’d so much as twitched a muscle in exertion.

“Here we are,” she said, unlocking a room two doors down to the left via a keypad, “number 724.”

“Thank you,” he said as she motioned for him to go inside first. The ‘quarters’ were small, but elegantly designed, giving him a bedroom, bathroom, and kitchen/living room with a large video screen covering most of one wall.

“I’ll let you get settled then contact you later via the intercom, which you can access through the screen controls here,” she said, reaching down and touching a small glass table in front of a couch, on top of which was a built-in remote. “There are instruction manuals and walkthroughs available through the green button, but most people just like to start pressing buttons and figure things out the old fashioned way.”

“I’ll be one of those,” Gary confirmed.

“You can set your door combination on the inside panel there,” she said, pointing back at the doorjamb. “Current code is ‘newb.’ En-E-Doubleyou-Bee.”

“How fitting.”

“Yes, someone clearly has a sense of humor,” she said, motioning towards the kitchen nook. “We aren’t set up for cooking in here, but there are a few ready to eat snacks and drinks that we make available that you can store and prepare, as well as getting fresh water whenever you like. One of the biggest concerns people have is with the tap water, but I can assure you it’s cleaner than the bottled products you’re used to buying. Star Force does everything with quality in mind.”

“So I’ve heard,” Gary said, experimenting with the faucet. “When is my training to begin?”

“We give you a bit of leeway there. Can be tomorrow or the end of the week. Later than that we’ll come find you and get your butt in gear. Appointments can be made and reviewed via the terminal with your handlers, myself included, or you can register yourself in courses. Some are mandatory, others are not, and some are linear, meaning you have to take them in the order we prescribe. You can sift through it now or wait till I come back later to walk you through it. Oh, one last thing,” she said, walking over and toggling the screen on.

“Here’s a map…and here’s the cafeteria. I imagine you’re probably getting hungry by now.”

“Yes, thank you. Do I need some type of debit card to purchase meals?”

“Nope…eat what you want, it’s all free. Just don’t bring back any unpackaged items up here.”

“Free food,” Gary said, surprised and impressed. “Now there’s a novel idea, especially with the planet’s food shortages.”

“We take care of our own,” she said with a smirk as she headed to the door. “I’ll be in touch.”

“Just one thing,” Gary said as she was halfway out the door. “I didn’t get your name.”

“My apologies. I have so many of these conversations that sometimes I forget what I’ve said and what I haven’t. My name is Kiana.”

“Nice to meet you, Kiana, and thank you.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Brooks. Have a pleasant day.”

With that she left him on his own, trodding off to pick up the next new arrival and get her situated. Gary walked around his quarters, taking stock of what was where before sitting down on his couch and beginning to flip through the information Star Force made available to all the colonial recruits…and as usual, they’d provided an insane amount.

“If I’m going to get a prime colony slot, I better start doing my homework,” he told himself, knowing that all the Star Force-run colonies had differing requirements. After having seen various news reports on the colonization efforts he’d decided that his goal was to make it into one of the Star Force Clans that were colonizing the outer zone of the star system. Largely unpopulated and remote, it was the frontier for Humanity…and what better place was there to find some breathing room than the edge of civilization itself.

10

December 2, 2232

“ETA 12 minutes,” Roger reported as he piloted a small shuttle away from the starport in Venus orbit, heading for the massive ship floating further out that would be his home for the next several months. Behind him in the shuttle was the last of the crew being transferred over to the Farscape, the first of Star Force’s jumpship fleet.

“Copy that, Captain. We’ll be ready to depart on your arrival.”

Roger flicked off the comm and goosed his flight line as the shuttle thrusted, picking up more speed and a bit of angle, then drifted out away from the station. Even at this range the Farscape was easily visible on the viewscreens, massing in at more than twice one of their command ships and four times as long. The ship was a mix of an armored nosecone, cargo compartments, and engines…lots and lots of engines. Her maiden voyage had been a run out to Mordor and back, which the crew and ship had handled well, but the first interstellar trip was going to be handled by no less than an Archon.

When the shuttle finally arrived at its destination it killed its forward momentum then slid inside an open cargo bay, passing through an energy field that kept the bay’s atmosphere intact though no one was allowed inside until the doors closed behind the craft. Energy fields were still a new technology for Star Force and they weren’t going to take the chance of a hiccup in the matrix sucking everyone on deck out into space. The field was in place to keep the atmosphere inside so that they didn’t have to pressurize and repressurize every time a ship entered or exited.

When the doors closed off the view of Venus the shuttle extended six landing pads and slowly began to drift down to the deck as the hangar control activated the artificial gravity pads in the floor at minimal power. Once contact had been made and the shuttle leveled out they ramped it up to 1 g and gave the all clear signal to Roger.

Double checking for external atmospheric pressure first, Roger unlocked and remotely lowered the rear hatch allowing half a dozen crew members to walk out onto the ship while he went through the standard power down sequence. When he’d finished he grabbed his duffle from a side compartment and walked out and down the boarding ramp, seeing his XO and two other officers waiting for him nearby.

“Commander Kilvan,” he greeted as he made a sharp turn and walked towards the exit with the man who’d otherwise have been the Captain matching his stride.

“Captain,” Kilvan said respectfully. “All final checks are in. We’re as ready to jump as we can make her.”

 “Fuel load?”

“We topped off the tanks yesterday.”

“How’s the jumpline look?”

Kilvan glanced back at one of the two officers trailing him.

“All clear, as best we can tell,” the man in charge of navigating the massive ship said.

Roger and the trio stepped into an elevator car just off the hangar, then sped off through the ship to the destination sector that the Archon thumbed on the control board. “Have you finished the impact calculations?”

“Yes, twice,” Kilvan said, referring to the debris data accumulated from their two short jumps out and back from Mordor. “It was less than we anticipated, but with a few larger pieces showing up at random.”

“I was worried about that,” Roger conceded. “How’d the shield hold up?”

“It blunted everything,” Kilvan said with pride. “The armor didn’t so much as take a scratch.”

Roger nodded, pleased to hear that caveat. In addition to the armored nosecone that was designed to protect the ship from high speed impacts with small scale debris and dust during transit, the Farscape was also equipped with a hexagonal flat energy shield that preceded the ship during high speed flight. It was designed to repel physical impact, as opposed to energy, with any starlight shifted to gamma rays being absorbed by the armor. The faster the impact velocity against normal light the higher the frequency and intensity would alter, making the mundane deadly, but that wasn’t Roger’s immediate concern.

The risk of physical impact with a rock at multiple times the speed of light was why Star Force had spent the last 20 years sending out probes to the edges of the star system, charting the debris bands that swirled around Sol and establishing no-go zones for jumpship travel. Some of those zones currently blocked the jump lanes to some star systems, but with everything in constant orbital motion the ‘safe’ zones and ‘danger’ zones were always shifting and had to be updated continuously.

Several permanent sensor stations had been built in the high and outer zones to continuously monitor the region around the primary jumplines that went to the Alpha Centauri and Proxima systems. The position of these stations had to be adjusted occasionally, which was why they were equipped with engines, an oddity for space stations. The massive radar beacons continuously scanned for large or medium sized rocks, trying to diminish the risks of transit through the region…though there was no way for them to be able to pick up the small stuff at range, which meant each jump would be a calculated risk.

The Farscape’s armor and shield were designed to minimize that risk, allowing the jumpship to take the small hits while navigation would keep them away from the big ones. Trouble was, the faster a ship traveled the smaller the rocks needed to be to cause damage…and the upcoming jump was going to be by far the fastest in Star Force history.

The ship’s elevator opened onto one of the quarters decks and Roger walked out, duffle slung over his shoulder, intent on stashing his gear before heading up to the bridge.

“I can take care of that for you, Captain?” the fourth officer in their quartet offered.

Not wanting to hold up the show he took the man up on his offer. “Thank you, Edward,” he said, handing him the duffle. The man half dropped it, not expecting it to be so heavy, then belatedly remembered the Archons’ rumored strength.

“I’ll catch up,” he said, hauling Roger’s personal items off to the Captain’s quarters.

Roger and the other two headed back to the elevator and made their way to the bridge.

It was the first time Roger had been on the completed ship, having visited it in dry dock around Venus at several stages of its construction, but before the bridge had finished being fabricated. He knew what the dimensions were, based on the blueprints that he’d helped to design, but the sight of such a large workspace made him pause for a moment as he entered from the side of the circular dome.

The walls formed one smooth perimeter circle, then arced up to a high peak under which a massive hologram of the star system was being generated to scale with the planets having to be highlighted by markers. Several other positions were marked as well, including the Farscape’s current location.

Directly beneath the floating hologram was an empty space housing the generator on a low pillar. Several meters out from that was the first ring of workstations, with more and more added on at 5 meter intervals giving the entire bridge a wide open feel to it. Some of the outer rings were broken up and had other shapes in their places. The Captain’s chair was located in one of these on the third ring where a square was cut out going all the way back into the fourth ring, giving Roger a small grouping of officers directly around him to handle primary ship functions like navigation, sensors, communications, and weapons…which the jumpship had a few of for good measure.

The rest of the bridge held the workstations for other functions. During the expedition an ongoing survey was going to be conducted, which a group of officers to the right of the Captain’s ‘box’ would be handling. On the far side of the hologram ship’s crew rotations were scheduled, with maintenance orders handled by a station two seats down on the same ring. All across the bridge were the oversight functions for the entire ship, which made it the nerve center for the giant beast, with more than 100 officers on deck at all times.

And thanks to the artificial gravity plating, that deck was actually flat as opposed to the slight curve that Star Force ships had seen in all of their floors. That too made the bridge feel bigger than usual, for while all new ships coming off the line had had artificial gravity for years, they were a small minority within the overall fleet that still largely relied on centrifugal gravity.

Roger wove his way through the rings and walkways until he got to his Captain’s chair but he didn’t sit down, instead preferring to look over the shoulders of the three crewmembers already manning his box. Kilvan took a seat outside in his own little annex while the navigator took his seat in front of Roger’s chair.

“Show me the jumpline.”

One of the officers adjusted the room-spanning hologram and a pulsing golden line was displayed running from Sol straight out to the edge of the system, depressed below the ecliptic plane that divided the ‘northern’ hemisphere of the star system from the ‘southern’ half.

The Proxima jumpline was depressed into the southern hemisphere a good 42 degrees, but the target star system actually lay just a tweak above the galactic plane. That oddity was because the Solar System was actually upside down with the way it rotated, making the north pole of both Earth and Sol pointed into the southern galactic hemisphere. Add into that the fact that the Solar system didn’t lay flat on the galactic plane and was actually skewed about 60 degrees, making it look more upright than flat when compared to the swirl of the galaxy, giving anyone a headache where interstellar navigation was involved.

The jumpline was also nowhere near Venus at present, located a good quarter orbit away, which meant that the Farscape was going to have to travel across the inner zone to get in position to make the jump.

“Get us moving into position, Nav,” Roger ordered, finally sitting down.

“Aye, sir,” the navigation officer said, plotting a course and feeding it to the helmsman, the first leg of which took them further out into Venus orbit to stabilize the mini jump they were about to make. They had to wait nearly two hours to circle around Venus to the point where their trajectories lined up, at which point the Farscape kicked in its gravity drive at low power and pushed off from the planet’s gravity well over the course of several minutes, then began a long coast in towards the Sun.

Eventually the ship used its gravity drive to brake against the star’s gravity well, then kicked in its enormous plasma engines to put it into a low orbit that would bring the ship around to the jump point. It was a convoluted course, but until Star Force developed the technology to isolate one gravity well from another it was what they had to work with…but still far more efficient than using plasma engines alone.

Several days later they finally arrived on the jumpline at the jumppoint they’d chosen, having killed all excess orbital momentum via the plasma engines. Technically they were now falling into the Sun, but at such a great distance that that point was merely semantics. For all intents they were now floating in place, micro-adjusting their position to get exactly on the jumpline, or as close as technologically possible.

The trick with choosing jumppoints was that the further you got away from the gravity well the better the angle became for accuracy. Moving one meter to the left close into the star made for more of an angular shift than one meter did out by, say, Pluto did. The downside was that the farther you got away from a star the less gravity there was, meaning less propulsion, so the navigator had the arduous task of picking a point with sufficient accuracy and repulsive thrust, given the ship’s capabilities.

That point for the Farscape was midway between Venus and Mercury’s orbit. Having taken into consideration the presence of all the planets and their gravity wells during the jump that would bounce the ship to and fro as its gravity drives repelled from them as well as any and all gravity pulls within the system. Confident that they were properly aligned, the navigator gave the go ahead to the helmsman, who looked to Roger for final confirmation.

“Is the jumpline clear?” he asked.

“No detectable obstructions,” the sensor officer reported.

“Make the jump,” Roger said, steadying himself. If they didn’t get this right they’d be lost in space, unable to stop for lack of a target gravity well to brake against.

The helmsman powered up the multiple gravity drives in the aft of the ship, making sure their alignment was accurate to balance out the forward mass, otherwise they’d send the ship into a spin as one engine pushed harder than another.

“Jumping in five, four, three, two, one…now,” the man said calmly as nothing happened.

Nothing detectable anyway, given the inertial dampening fields that were a key component of the gravity drives, else the massive acceleration would have driven the engines straight up through the interior and into the nose cone, ripping the ship apart. Everything save the engine cores were encased in one gigantic field with multiple redundancies. That field spread the acceleration out evenly to every molecule within its confines, meaning that Roger’s body couldn’t feel so much as a twitch as the speed indicator on the helmsman’s and navigator’s consoles began counting up rapidly.

His chair had its own counter which was set to approximate figures, unlike the meter per second measurements required of precise navigation. Those figures on their screens blurred out, and the lightspeed counter on Roger’s  armrest ticked up to .1 within the first second, then counted up slower and slower as the jumpship got further away from Sol’s gravity well and the pushing power of its engines became less and less.

The exterior monitors, fore and aft, became useless within seconds. The aft monitor red-shifted briefly then the view of Sol completely disappeared as the screen went black when the light coming from the star could no longer catch up in visual form, being stretched out into infrared, then radio waves, then elongated so much it no longer appeared as any form of EM. A moment later the jumpship was moving faster than the photons so that nothing was visible on the aft cameras other than pure blackness.

The forward cameras grew brighter as the ship’s speed condensed the incoming photons into greater concentrations, then out of the visible spectrum entirely…with infrared and radio waves then being elevated to the visible spectrum for a split second before all the incoming EM started to blue-shift so far that the cameras had to shut down behind protective plates to keep from being burnt out by the now gamma rays and those insanely compressed forms of photons that didn’t even have a name in the Human lexicon.

 “How are we looking?” Roger asked as the ship’s location on the hologram passed Saturn, with the map automatically beginning to scale down to keep perspective.

“Significant drift,” the navigator reported as the ship’s speed continued to increase, “but within limits.”

Roger let out a sigh of relief, even though the jump wasn’t yet completed. His biggest worry had been an immediate course misalignment that would have sent them speeding off in approximately the direction of Proxima but not close enough to hit the target’s gravity well. What the navigator meant by ‘within limits’ was the Farscape’s ability to correct its trajectory using plasma engines once the jump was completed, retargeting its destination slightly to make sure they hit the star’s gravity well spot on for deceleration.

The jump lasted many minutes, with the engines running hard to provide additional thrust with the weaker gravity further out in the star system before their designated travel velocity was achieved at 102 lightspeed.

“Engines are off,” the helmsman reported as the computer shut them down. “Speed is spot on. Permission for course adjustment?”

“We still good?” Roger asked the navigator.

The man confirmed his numbers then turned around and nodded. “Successful jump.”

Just then a small ping from one of the consoles got all the officers’ attention, as well as making Roger’s breath catch in his throat. When nothing further happened he slowly let it out, waiting.

“Shield impact,” the sensor officer reported. “Successful deflection. It didn’t make it through to the armor.”

“One less rock in the galaxy,” the helmsman muttered.

“Get us aligned,” Roger said, granting permission. He knew the sooner they made the adjustment the more fuel they’d save.

The hologram suddenly jerked out, diminishing Sol to a small dot and shoving it off to one side of the bridge while another spot appeared on the opposite side, followed close by with two others nearly on top of one another. The first dot was their target destination, the Proxima System at 4.24 lightyears distance, or 1.3 parsecs. Star Force used lightyears to measure interstellar distance and eschewed the 3.26 lightyear ‘parsecs’ for being pointless. It also made speed/distance calculations easier if the two were using applicable units.

The two dots nearby were the binary Alpha Centauri System, 4.37 lightyears away from home and only .2 lightyears away from Proxima, making the pair of star systems the closest neighbors to the Solar System, with the next closest being the Barnard System, 5.94 lightyears distant and being a good third of a rotation away on the far side of the Solar System in quadrant 1. Proxima lay squarely in quadrant 2, while 3 and 4 made up the rimward half of the local area.

The trip out to Proxima would take the Farscape about 2 weeks, but that was a jog next door as far as the galaxy was concerned. The V’kit’no’sat empire stretched out across a vast domain, but even it was limited compared to the full size of the galaxy which stretched 100,000 light years across. As grand and significant an expedition that this was for Star Force, far surpassing anything they’d done to date, the sheer size of the galaxy that they were now reaching out into impressed on Roger one chilling fact.

They were still the newbs in the galaxy, and that wasn’t going to change for a very, very long time.

Canderous

1

March 8, 2258

Epsilon Eridani System

Corneria

Harrison-167 jumped over a low log, skimming the bottom of his right foot on the rain-slickened bark as he sailed over a bit too low, as usual, but it didn’t trip him up. He landed in the slightly blue-tinted forest soil, his foot sinking in a good inch as he ran on, adding his newest footprints to the path that he and the other 14 Archons assigned to Clan Saber’s little corner of the planet had been pounding out of the hills surrounding their colony, which was situated at the base of a deep ravine between two ridgelines that offered significant elevation challenges for the Archons’ exterior runs.

The reason for the extra difficulty, and the occasional boot-skimming, was that Corneria’s gravity was 108% that of Earth’s, making everything feel just a bit heavier, but not enough to cause any serious problems. Harrison had the bad habit of reverting back to his Earth-based movements from time to time, causing a bit of a neuromuscular hiccup despite the fact that he’d been on station for the past 5 years. He’d expected to have fully adjusted by now, but he guessed the occasional trips to orbit and normal gravity were enough to keep his body confused, hence the occasional coordination flap.

Turning right sharply around the trunk of a very thick tree, Harrison climbed up three strategically placed roots and around onto a switchback that sent him further up the ravine in the opposite direction as the path zigzagged up towards the peak, on top of which sat a tiny outpost with a timing pedestal. Given the ever changing weather conditions and, more often than not, rain-soaked landscape, the footing was never the same twice, meaning the course was outside the bounds of the reliability necessary for any challenges, but the Archons still liked racing to the top and comparing times on their auxiliary workouts.

The Clan Saber colony was small, but it did contain a full sanctum, meaning they had a proper track indoors for their normal running workouts. The trails were a bonus, as well as providing a more established route up to the top of the ravine than huffing it through the unpredictable rocky outcroppings that could stall one’s ascent and force you to backtrack if you didn’t keep an eye out for where you were going. Most of the rocky nubs had long since been covered over with soil, but enough remained poking out to be a problem if you were in a hurry…or trying to run downhill.

Harrison was running up and over into the next valley as an extra workout today, already having logged 15k indoors at 5:40 mile pace along with the rest of his core workouts in the morning. After lunch he’d focused on his skills work, mainly swimming today with a little target practice thrown in, then his workout quota was complete and he had the rest of the day off…as was usual. Garrison duty on Corneria was exceedingly dull, which also made it a great environment to train in.

Sucking down a few ambrosia-laced cookies, Harrison had taken to the trails for the past 2 hours, reaching the farthest point on the out and back course they’d established over in the next valley. As was typical, he’d worn a backpack with a number of heavy supplies which he deposited at the terminus along with the others that had been accumulating there over past weeks. Each time one of them came out this far they brought more with them, and once the prerequisite number of materials had been reached they’d begin building another outpost by hand…then extend the trails on further out.

The easier way would have been to load up a Mantis and fly the supplies over, but they didn’t want to do it the easy way. Carrying it all out by trail felt better, as well as enhancing the difficulty of their runs, and allowed them a bit more personal exploration than they’d been used to back in the Solar System. Corneria was a world of pristine, untouched forests that circled the globe from pole to pole, ranging from snowy evergreens at the extremes to hot jungles along the equator. With no axial tilt to speak of and a 22-hour day, the climate remained relatively constant, though the local weather patterns were quite the opposite.

Precipitation was frequent in the area that Clan Saber had been allotted to colonize, yet there were no oceans on the planet, only a number of small lakes scattered across the surface. Whereas Earth was a water world, Corneria was all forest…but a rain-soaked forest at that. There were dry spells, but more often than not there was moisture in the air, which gave rise to the mass of bluish ground cover that sprouted up everywhere the trees blocked the intense sunlight, blanketing the forest floor underneath the canopy and giving the soil its trademark tint through decomposition.

Where the sunlight did break through were thin grasses, not unlike on Earth, but all the vegetation had a slightly alien theme to it, like someone had gone and tried to copy their homeworld but messed up little bits here and there. For example, the evergreen trees in the north were a dead ringer for pines…except that their needles were forked, growing in a V-shape rather than the single lines typical on Earth.

Other similarities were abound, but the biggest difference was the lack of wildlife. To date they’d categorized exactly six species on the planet. Four were insects and the other two were types of ground burrowing grubs. There were no birds, no wildlife, no fish, no nothing on the entire planet…or at least as far as they had searched. It made the entire world feel empty and new to Harrison…quite the contrast to overpopulated Earth.

When he finally reached the top of the ridge Harrison tagged the finish pedestal and stopped for a breather. His backpack now rolled up into a tiny pouch at the small of his back, the Archon stood on the concrete slab jutting out from the tiny building wedged in between the trees to his left as he looked out over the small clearing they’d created, giving him a good view of the valley below. Directly ahead of him was the path going on down, zigzagging to the right initially before being swallowed up by the forest again, but the main draw was the huge valley spreading out before him, at the bottom of which were the sparkling buildings of the colony as they reflected the sunlight back up into his eyes.

He squinted away the glare and sucked in a deep breath of the fresh air. The oxygen content was higher here, rising to over 40% in the deepest parts of the forest, but the carbon dioxide was also higher, running on average at 1.2% compared with the .03% on Earth. That seemed odd to Harrison at first, given that there was no indigenous animal population to produce the carbon dioxide. Given how rapidly the plant life on Earth sucked the stuff out of the air he’d expected there to be almost none at all on Corneria.

He was right, there shouldn’t have been any. Nor should the plant life have been able to survive without it, but what the planet did have instead was a number of geological hotspots spread around the planet spewing gasses into the atmosphere on a regular basis, including a large amount of carbon dioxide...more than the forests could soak up, meaning that the plant life here had it very, very good and grew to applicable size.

The trees around where Harrison now stood were smaller, due to being at the top of the ridge, but further down the slope they grew to insane size thanks to the abundance of the carbon dioxide, which in turn generated the high amounts of oxygen as the forests scrubbed the carbon atoms off the gas and used them to grow tall and thick. Along with the abundance of moisture Corneria was a plant haven, and certain tracks of the wilderness even made Endor’s trees look small in comparison.

Star Force had wisely chosen not to tackle colonizing those thicker sections right off and took to more of the shorter growths to start carving out a foothold in. Clan Saber was brought in 13 years after the initial colonization and given their choice of locations. Paul had chosen this valley as their starting point, which the planet’s Duke had quickly granted him.

That wasn’t surprising, since Paul’s Marquis had been chosen by Davis to oversee the Epsilon Eridani System, taking a similar role to the Director’s in the Solar System. Clan Saber had been assigned another of Davis’s ‘to be groomed’ apprentices while Hightower got promoted up to Duke and now had his hands full with the much larger colonization effort.

Paul and most of Clan Saber weren’t on Corneria, with Harrison being the highest ranking Archon assigned. He had recently achieved Adept level 78, which put him a good 22 levels ahead of the next highest ranking member of his garrison unit, giving him defacto command of the small colony wedged into the base of the ravine along with Baron McGuiness, who oversaw the Sabers’ economic activities within the system.

Half visible from Harrison’s position and stretching off to the east was the Sabers’ ever-growing colony ‘building,’ in that it was all one continuous structure continually being added upon. Over time Paul had adopted a light blue as the Sabers’ primary color and the normal grays of Star Force design esthetic had been replaced with the faint blue, smooth exterior that clashed with the overbearing greens of the forest, but complimented the hue of the soil perfectly.

The colony looked like an accumulation of blue marshmallows that had fallen down to the base of the ravine and smooshed together, in so much as they filled the center without reaching up to the ridgelines. At the base the building ended abruptly, allowing a small tunnel through which the ravine’s waterway flowed…too big to be a creek, yet too small to be a river during normal weather conditions but capable of significant rise during storms. The architecture had been built to accommodate such floods and was anchored into the ravine’s walls, allowing a small arch over the middle through which one of the Archons’ trails ran.

The top of the ‘marshmallows’ was appropriately lumpy, with several base elements of spires beginning to be built upon while both ends of the colony continued to extend down through the ravine. Currently the colony’s population was a steady 22,000, mostly comprised of construction crews and other workers with very little in the way of a civilian population present. At the moment the Sabers needed to get a solid foothold on the planet before they started building habitats, meaning that they had to replicate all of their infrastructure from home inside this one colony, which was not an easy thing to do.

They needed to replicate it because the Clans’ standing rules of operation were still in effect in this star system. They could not trade with anyone other than the Clans, including the much larger Star Force colonies on the planet that Hightower was growing rapidly. There were four other Clans on planet, but none of them were in a much more stable position than the Sabers, with all of them working towards achieving self-sufficiency before pulling in mass colonists that they may or may not be able to support through supply shipments from the Solar System.

As it was, those occasional shipments were what was sustaining the Sabers through this startup phase, bringing in the machinery to build their own factories and mining sites…of which two were located within the colony building and burrowing their way down into the bedrock, while another three auxiliary mining sites were located within a 500 mile radius, reachable only by Mantis or dropship…which were supplying more and more raw materials to expand their colony.

Specialty components still had to be shipped in, but as each year passed the Sabers’ onsite production list was increased in length, moving them in a predictable manner towards the minimum requirements needed for self-sufficiency, which had been well established during the foundation of other Star Force colonies over the past century.

Harrison took a long moment at the ridgeline outpost, not out of fatigue, but because he liked the view looking down on the colony and the surrounding forest both in front of him and behind him in the adjacent ravine. He walked over to the door to the outpost and went inside, grabbing a drink of water from the fountain and checking his run statistics on the nearby display screen, noting how long it’d taken him to ascend this side and judging his pace as ‘adequate’ considering he hadn’t been in a hurry.

He went back outside and stretched a bit on the concrete platform, sitting down and twisting up in a variety of positions, feeling the warm, dull ache in his muscles that was one of the rewards of a good, long run. As he was doing so the view of the moon overhead came into his eye line. It was partially obscured by haze, but large enough that it was hard to miss. Nearly 3/4 the size of Corneria, the moon was almost categorized as a double planet. It too was habitable and covered in forests, but there the similarities ended.

Dxun was aptly labeled after its Star Wars namesake. The moon had 62% gravity, a hot, humid, and oppressive climate generated from a globe-spanning ocean that had numerous, scar-like fingers crisscrossing the surface…and some of the fiercest wildlife Star Force had come across to date. They weren’t V’kit’no’sat, but they were large, savage, and mostly reptilian. Hightower had wisely decided that they leave the colonization of Dxun to the distant future, given that they had 3x the land area of Earth to work with on Corneria before they even had to think of putting down roots up there.

That said, Harrison and Paul had had a long discussion about the planetoid before he’d been sent out here and he knew their Clan leader wanted them to claim the wild moon at some point, knowing that doing so would be a challenge. There were far too few habitable planetoids in the galaxy to pass up, especially this close to Sol, and with Hightower not wanting to go anywhere near the moon it seemed fitting that its colonization should fall to the Clans.

That was all in the future though, Harrison knew, because they had to get their foothold established on Corneria first, then build up a significant industrial and economic base before they could start spawning other colonies within the system. That was going to take decades, but Harrison looked forward to the challenge. Corneria was a gem of a world, even more so than Earth, and both the Clans and Star Force planned to colonize every inch of Epsilon Eridani for what it was worth, given that it had 5 habitable planetoids.

On paper, Corneria alone had the potential to hold a greater population that the entire Solar System combined, then add in the other habitable planets and nonhabitable ones, orbital tracks for stations, and the potential for the star system made it very viable that, given enough time, Epsilon Eridani would usurp the Solar System as Star Force’s primary home…though that, indeed, was thinking well into the distant future, for now Corneria was still a virgin forest and had a population of less than 5 million…while the Solar System supported over 20 billion inhabitants.

Corneria was still frontier, and Harrison was enjoying the solitude. Archons had two modes…war and training. And given that Star Force hadn’t fought even a small war in decades, all he had known in recent years was the trials and his training.

As he stood up from his last stretch and prepared to run down the ravine back to the colony he took one last look out over the far ridgeline, which was a bit lower than the one he stood on, at the horizon and the forested tracks beyond as the sun overhead began to start creeping towards the surface. There was something raw and powerful about the wilderness that made training here seem all the more fitting. The higher gravity was part of that, he knew, but if he had to choose between an urban setting or this, he’d choose this any day.

Planning on spending a great many years of his life on the planet, Harrison tagged the timing pedestal and cautiously hit the descending trail in front of him, heading back down to one of the few bastions of civilization on Corneria, feeling like he had the best of both worlds and, perhaps, the best assignment of any Archon. As much as Earth was his homeworld, Corneria definitely felt like an upgrade, and at the moment Harrison was right where he wanted to be.

2

July 2, 2258

Solar System

Earth

Jules Portman ascended the circular staircase into Davis’s office only to find an empty desk. He frowned, wondering where the Director was. It wasn’t like him to be late for any meeting, let alone one he had arranged.

“Ah, there you are,” Davis’s voice said from behind him.

Jules turned around and looked at the desolate side of the office behind the staircase to find his colleague standing next to that portion of the panoramic window that ran the entire circumference of the office.

“Here I am,” Portman said, walking around the central staircase pit and over to his location.

“I have a proposition for you,” Davis said, turning his attention back to the window as Jules walked up and stood shoulder to shoulder next to him.

“I thought you might,” his friendly rival businessman said, glancing out over the cityscape. “Something wrong with your desk?”

Davis pointed out the window. “Over there…see that thin trail of smoke?”

Jules focused on his line of direction. “No.”

“It’s hard to see, in the nook of the taller tower where it connects to the adjacent building.”

“Barely,” he said, seeing a few whiffs rising up off the roof.

“A meteor hit there a few minutes ago, I think. Probably space junk. We’ve still got bits and pieces of trash floating around in orbit from years back.”

“Any damage?”

“I’ve got my people investigating. I doubt any critical systems were hit, but it’s possible someone was in that section when it fell.”

“I hope not,” Jules offered. “No armored rooftops? Bit uncharacteristic of Star Force.”

“Atlantis is old, built well before we established our standard construction protocols. That said, the construction is still rather sturdy. I’d estimate the object was at least a meter in diameter.”

“That large?”

“I’m being conservative. I saw it come down out of the corner of my eye and at first glance it appeared much larger than that, but there’s no way for me to be certain. And no, Atlantis isn’t capped with military grade armor.”

 Jules nodded, realizing this wasn’t the normal space junk that typically burned up in the atmosphere upon descent. “You said something about a proposition?”

“Yes I did,” Davis said, turning to face him but remaining by the wall-like window that extended from floor to ceiling. “How would you like some contract work?”

“Depends what it is,” Jules said, already interested.

“Vanguard for national colonization. I want a test facility built by non-Star Force personnel to liaise with Russia, Australia, and Brazil as they make plans to establish their own sites. I want to hire you to experiment and set some benchmarks for their use. I don’t want to have to hold their hands once they get there. They either can make a go of this or not, and those three are the only countries I think have a shot of pulling it off.”

“Where exactly are we talking about?”

“The test site I want you to colonize is a small island a few kilometers offshore in one of the lakes on Corneria.”

Jules eyes widened. “You want me to establish a colony for you?”

“If successful, the colony would remain in your possession. I want to see how someone else handles the challenges of limited resupply, and I want to take your example to instruct the others. The way Star Force colonizes isn’t applicable to anyone else, so I need a test balloon for the public sector.”

“Interesting,” Jules said, resisting the urge to agree without caveat. “Payment?”

“I’ll grant you 100 billion credits for the project. If you’re successful you can keep what you build. If my people have to bail you out, I salvage and recycle what’s left over.”

“Define successful.”

“You create and manage a viable colony. Other than the credits you get no help from Star Force, though our usual markets will be available to you as they would be to anyone else.”

“And you want me to coordinate with those three countries?”

“I want them to watch and learn. Any more than that is your call, but if you play your cards right you could end up with some lucrative contracts helping them establish their colonial footholds afterwards.”

“Why so generous?”

“Because it’s not as easy as it looks,” Davis admitted. “Jumpship traffic to and from the system is still light, and right now Star Force is the only one strong enough to build the ships, each of which costs us well more than 100 billion.”

“How much more?” Jules pressed out of curiosity.

“Enough that we won’t be selling jumpships anytime soon.”

“You’re sitting at what now, six?”

“We have a few more than that,” Davis admitted. “Some we keep out of the public eye, but as far as the normal supply circuit is concerned we have eight in operation.”

“And the circuit goes through where, exactly?”

“Sol to Proxima, Proxima to Alpha Centauri, Alpha Centauri to Epsilon Eridani and back to here for route 1. Route 2 goes from Sol to Morpheus, Prancer, Rudolph, then back to Sol. Route 3 has yet to be established, but we do have out and back runs going to Barnard and Sirius.”

Jules was forced to smile, not so much for the expansive nature of Star Force’s interstellar transportation network, but for the names of the star systems. “Tell me, where exactly did those names come from? They’re not official, are they?”

“They’re official as far as Star Force is concerned,” Davis said, no longer finding any humor in the names the Archons had chosen for some of the systems that only had catalog numbers. Over the years he’d just come to accept them for what they were, not their namesakes.

“I guess that’s your prerogative,” Jules relented, “seeing as how you’re the only ones that have been there. How many jumpships are dedicated to route 1?”

“Three.”

“Time for a complete cycle?”

“Including layovers…14 weeks, though they’re not evenly spaced. All three are sequenced in 2 week intervals, leaving a 10 week gap in the rotation. Interstellar communication is by courier only, so all orders are placed through the first and second jumpships so that the second and third will be able to pick them up on the next pass…otherwise you have to wait until the first one comes around the circuit again. We keep our local markets stocked well, but certain items will be hard to get out in a timely manner.”

“I’m beginning to see the difficulties you spoke of. Self-sufficiency is a bit more than a novelty then?”

“It’s a necessity. Right now we have limited resources within each system, and if you’re expecting to get help within a few days time it’ll have to be local, which is why I haven’t opened up interstellar colonization yet. If someone screws up we might not be able to help them in time.”

“Quite a load on my shoulders then.”

“It is.”

Jules smiled. “You know I can’t refuse this one. The money and my corporation aside, I can’t pass up an opportunity to get the jump on everyone else.”

“I didn’t think you would. How soon can you be ready?”

Jules blew out an unceremonious breath as he thought. “Depends how much we can purchase on site. I’d loosely say 6 months, but I’ll have to get back to you on that once we crunch the numbers.”

“You do realize you’ll need to go in person?”

“With the communications lag being what it is? Yeah, I already figured that out. I won’t get any flack from my board, not with the financial gains this endeavor has the potential to generate. In fact, they’ll probably insist that I go anyway to make sure everything comes off without a hitch.”

“Welcome aboard,” Davis said, extending his hand.

Jules took it. “You always did want me to work for you.”

“I have a nose for talent.”

“Thank you for the opportunity,” he said, releasing the man’s firm grip.

“I hope you’re up to it,” Davis cautioned. “You’re biting off more than you realize on this one.”

“Then you’d better get the info flowing my way so I can start to size it up.”

“Got a packet ready for you,” Davis said, pointing back towards his desk.

“Do you have time to thumb through it?”

“For a project this important, yes, I can spare a few hours.”

“Good,” Jules said as they walked back across the office. “Getting the master’s take is always helpful.”

8 months later…

“How we look?” Jules asked his Corvati Captain as he watched their dropship snug up against the docking port of the Tardis, the Star Force jumpship that would be carrying it and six others out to the Epsilon Eridani system along with a slew of cargo buried somewhere inside the mammoth hold of the carrier ship. Of the three assigned to route 1, the Tardis was the only jumpship designed as a carrier, meaning it was able to transport not only cargo and passengers, but other ships as well.

A huge section of the jumpship design had been cut out along the midsection behind the armored nosecone where a portion of the cargo bays were located on the other jumpships. Inside this dead zone were docking clamps and umbilical attachments tethering the smaller ships to the larger one, much as had been done with inter-planetary carriers, only the size involved in this ship design was multiplied tenfold.

Eight starships in total were berthed inside, none of which belonged to Corvati. Their dropships were wedged in between along with several other Star Force ones being shipped out simultaneously, gradually filling out their system fleets one shipment at a time while local shipyards helped where they could, but the amount of infrastructure in Sol vastly outnumbered that in other systems, meaning that most of the equipment, for the time being, was having to be shipped in rather than built on site.

Jules didn’t have any starships in this lot, nor was he going to. Other than his one designated colony site he didn’t have anywhere else to go. The dropships would allow him to connect to a Star Force starport in orbit around Corneria and give him access to the local market, but other than that his people were going to be holed up building infrastructure as fast as they could to the exclusion of all else.

In the jumpship’s cargo hold was a number of prefab shelters and a host of construction equipment that his dropships would ferry down to the surface, assisted by Star Force ships to get the unloading accomplished in the short time window the jumpship would be on station. That had cost him a hefty sum, but there was no other way around the problem. Six dropships simply couldn’t handle the unloading on their own, so when they arrived a fleet of more than thirty others would rise up from the planet’s colonies to assist.

They’d dump everything in a clearing his first surface teams would be excavating, then he and the others would be left alone to do their thing more than a thousand miles away from the nearest colony. At that point his work would begin in earnest, but for right now getting everything buttoned up for transport was his primary concern.

“Right on the numbers,” the dropship Captain said, engaging the docking clamps that gripped the Herculium beams running around the airlock. With a loud groan the aerodynamically shaped dropship was snugged tight against the carrier’s frame and locked in place. “She’s not going anywhere.”

“Good,” Jules said, clapping the man on the back while he smooshed his way back through the cramped dropship to the airlock. His people had crammed crates of supplies in every room and corridor to maximize their cargo space, given that they were having to pay a hefty sum for it. As per the contract, Star Force would deliver the dropships he’d purchased free of charge, but the cargo space taken up inside the jumpship was another matter, and anything they couldn’t cram inside the dropships was costing them extra to transport.

That said, Jules had bought the minimum of supplies necessary for the startup operation. The big pieces he had to have, but the smaller stuff he could buy from the local Star Force market and avoid the exuberant shipping costs of sending them via jumpship. To date he was the only one to have paid them, but as Davis explained he was the trailblazer for those that would follow, and if they had to pay shipping costs to get here, then so would he.

That made sense, though it also underscored that Davis was serious about Corvati being on their own on this one. They might be doing contract work for Star Force, but that work was separate and apart, even if they were on the same planet. Jules had to make this work on his own, and Davis had chosen him as the man most likely to make it happen…meaning he had to come through. Failure was not an option.

That had made choosing items to ship out all the more harrowing. A great deal was going to be determined by his startup equipment, so he had spent an inordinate amount of time going through and tweaking the manifests, as well as getting redundant assurances from Star Force as to what products would be available from the local markets.

When Jules got to the docking port he jump/walked into the umbilical, feeling himself pass out of the range of the artificial gravity plates in the brand new dropship and float across until he reached the jumpship side and dropped back down a few inches into its artificial gravity. The Captain stayed behind to power down the ship and seal things up for the trip, then would join Jules in the jumpship’s passenger quarters.

Before that would happen Jules went around and checked on the other dropships, the cargo slabs in the main hold, and took a personal headcount of all his personnel to make sure they’d gotten onboard before he allowed himself to relax and retreat over to the mini-city’s entertainment zone where he found a smattering of Star Force crew walking the ‘streets’ of what would later become open to the public…but for now it was largely deserted, with most of the kiosks closed due to lack of customers.

One of the dining facilities was open, however, and Jules met up with several of his people there for a long meal, during which the jumpship broke Earth orbit to head out towards the jumpline to Proxima and the first leg of their journey. The following 9 weeks would be the worst for Jules, given that all he could do was sit and worry about how things might go wrong. Once they made planetfall his nerves would settle down as he was able to work the problems that arose, but until then he consigned himself to the downtime and as many games, movies, and dinners he could find on the jumpship to occupy his time with.

The last thing he wanted to do was sit in his quarters and stew, and he knew the best way to pass time was to fill it with something that would keep his mind busy.

3

June 7, 2259

Epsilon Eridani System

Corneria

Jules came down on the third dropship load of supplies, after the first run had delivered the forest-clearing cutting devices and the second delivered the prefab structures to set up their improvised landing pad. He took up residence there, overseeing the grounding of his equipment and personnel as a regular stream of the winged dropships descended from orbit and landed on the scraped dirt clearing, floating down into place on anti-grav engines.

His seven dropships were the most recent Star Force models. 5 were Mark VII Sparrows, the smallest dropships they made, while the other 2 were Mark VII Eagles, the medium version. They made repeated trips up to the ship, but along with them came the Star Force-owned dropships to assist with the cargo transfer.

Or rather handle the cargo transfer. Duke Hightower hadn’t sent over any Sparrows or Eagles. Instead, he sent over the large Falcons and even two of the new Dragon-class dropships. The extra-heavy lifters had only been put into service once the advent of anti-grav tech had hit the market, for without it there was no way the giant boomerangs could ever have flown unassisted.

With the larger model dropships unloading the bulk of the Corvati cargo in a relatively short time, Jules had to stay ahead of the surface unloading, as did the clearers who were having a hard time cutting down the thick trees and clearing away the underbrush before subsequent dropships would arrive. They had no other options for unloading other than what his crews cleared, given that the 247 square mile island had no natural clearings and only a thin beach around the perimeter.

A huge pile of brush was mounded up just south of the command center as the cutters worked their way east and west with the dropships landing in a roundish clearing to the north and their cargo being transferred off ship and laid out in a grid along the center, spreading out as if it were chasing the cutters east and west. Those crates that could be stacked on top of each other were, to save space, making for several artificial mountains dotting the dirt-fresh clearing.

Between running manifests and coordinating placements Jules would go topside on his command module to get his bearings, as well as watch the work being done in person. The upper balcony was still lower than the tree pile, but just taller than the highest crate stacks, having been constructed of several prefabricated segments that had been reattached to each other upon landing to create a four story tall building supported on thick legs that sank halfway down into what had just been the forest floor.

Overhead another Falcon came down, momentarily blotting out the sun as the large-sized dropship hovered over the makeshift camp, waiting for another to leave the landing area so it could take its place. Two Falcons could sit side by side on the landing ‘pad’ and give the offloaders plenty of work room to spare, but when a Dragon came down it had to have the pad to itself. For the moment though, both of the behemoths were back in space, being loaded up again for the third time.

Jules knew the jumpship had other cargo to unload and a schedule to keep, so he didn’t begrudge the Star Force crews their breakneck pace as he fought to stay ahead of it. They had more than half of their cargo on the ground now, and for some reason it seemed much larger in volume on the ground versus being stashed inside the hold of the Tardis. That…and he also had to allow access roads in between the stacks so they could sort out what they needed rather than just stack it in a big pile like they had on the jumpship.

“We’ve hit a snag,” Uriel said, walking up behind Jules on the upper platform. “The east clearing crew has come across a boulder they can’t move.”

Jules half turned to look at the woman as he kept his attention on the now landing Falcon. “Tell them to keep moving on. We’ll just have to work around it for now,” he said, looking to the east.

“Damn,” he whispered as she left to go below. Now that he knew what to look for he could see the top of the rock, which must have been bigger than a 2-story house. They’d either have to cut it apart later or build around it…something he didn’t want to do. It’d be a time killer either way.

He glanced back in the other direction, seeing the large cutting machines with their spinning blades hacking through the upper levels of the forest, then dipping down for another cut midway up, slicing the trees apart into segments rather than trying to topple the giants in one fell swoop, which would have been extra hazardous given their height and falling range. After reading through Star Force protocol, which he was obliged to follow now that he was doing contract work for them, he’d asked Davis’ for an allowance to use the massive cutters, which the Director had granted given that the planet had no wildlife. Otherwise, Jules would have had to have taken a much slower means of leveling the trees.

He didn’t really care one way or another for Star Force’s respect for wildlife, he was just concerned about keeping his schedule, though he had to admit it didn’t seem to slow the megacorporation’s expansion enough to matter. They were the most prolific builders in Human history, and given that record he didn’t mind having to follow their protocols, for in them might be some unspoken wisdom that would aid his own construction efforts.

 By the time the last of the cargo shipments arrived it was nightfall, with the massive Star Force dropships landing in an impressive display of running lights. His own people had spread beacons out around the landing zone for visual reference, but he knew the navigational computers onboard the ships were sufficient to bring them down without the illuminated markers. Regardless, it helped to define a bit of order to the makeshift camp that remained even as the bigger dropships departed.

His own seven ships put down in the landing zone, parking close together to fit inside the perimeter as the rest of his people filed out, having waited on the jumpship until the very end. During the interim several more prefab modules had been assembled to the south of the command center, giving them their temporary quarters and workstations. Jules met up with them as they arrived and got them settled in, then caught a couple hours of sleep himself before getting back to work before the sun came up and a new 22 hour day began.

It took more than a month to get the camp organized and functional, with two mining sites, three factories, a foodstuff production facility, and a power generator constructed from the cargo crates they brought with them. Davis’s orders gave them permission to colonize the island but nothing beyond that, for the time being, but his choice of sites had been deliberate. Star Force had pulled an extensive survey of the island’s natural resources that told Jules that there were large deposits of valuable metals beneath the surface, along with a host of other compounds that would have been unusually rare back on Earth. He had to keep reminding himself that the rules here were different, and while all the convenient deposits on Earth had been exploited years ago Corneria was virgin, so access would and should be easier.

The two mining sites he established were several kilometers away from base camp and required housing facilities of their own connected via several recently carved out dirt roads that were currently in the process of being paved. One was focusing on a rich iron deposit while the other was digging out a vein of gold that Jules intended to sell on the Corneria market to supplement his funding.

The factories were just barely operational and using the first shipments of iron to begin constructing various alloys of steel to start the construction of permanent facilities. Most of the resources needed for the construction material he had to buy from Star Force on site, but the iron at least he could produce himself and as his mining infrastructure gradually increased he hoped to be able to add more and more materials to his colony’s production list, not only for the sake of self-sufficiency, but because he was worried about having to burn too much of his 100 billion on subsequent purchases…hoping to be able to have Corvati pocket as much of that initial funding as possible when all things were said and done.

 The foodstuff production facilities were, by necessity, farther along than the rest of the infrastructure. The fresh water producers had gone online within the first few days, drawing directly from the lake, then later augmented to feed the facility. The first few crops had already been harvested and converted into stored components, then combined with supplies to create the foodstuffs on Star Force’s brochure. Most of those other components were currently coming from reserve stockpiles and would eventually be replaced by local production as the facilities expanded.

Corn and sugar cane were the first two crops focused on, with enough now being grown to accommodate the work crew Jules had brought along with him in the months ahead, but it wasn’t nearly enough for the colonists that would be arriving in the future. While his colony was quickly working its way towards foodstuff self-sufficiency, it still had a long way to go in that department before they could begin pulling in more people from Earth.

The power generator was one of several they brought with them, but the only one with enough fuel to operate. It was the most basic, running off of hydrogen, which they had ample supply of thanks to the lake once the water was broken down into molecular hydrogen and oxygen. Basic solar, wind, and geothermal power stations had been constructed, with the current being generated used for instantaneous electrolysis on the lake water, creating the hydrogen reserves that could then be used by the generator whenever needed, combining with the oxygen already present in the atmosphere.

The more advanced metallic hydrogen reactor was one they couldn’t operate yet, short of buying the core material from Star Force for an exuberant price. Jules wasn’t going to even think of doing that until the colony had an adequate revenue supply, and in the mean time he was going to rely on the more primitive generators while assembling the newer model into the power grid at the outset.

Two months into the setup everything was moving slowly, but smoothly for the Corvati operation, without so much as a single ship being see in all that time, underscoring how remote a local they’d been given to colonize and how much they were truly on their own in this endeavor.

That changed one day when a pair of Star Force Skeet-class aircraft suddenly appeared over the colony and landed in the tiny city unannounced. Jules went out to the landing pad…now concrete rather than dirt…with a pair of security officers in tow. They’d had nothing at all to do since arrival, so he let them tag along unnecessary as they were.

“Hello there,” Jules greeted the two men climbing out of the small single-seat fighters.

“Hi,” Harrison replied, stretching his arms and back after having been confined to the motorcycle-like seat for several hours. “Didn’t figure you guys got many guests so we thought we’d officially welcome you to the planet now that it’s obvious that you’re going to be sticking around a while.” He walked up to Jules and offered him his hand. “Harrison-167.”

“Eric-489,” the other man said, doing likewise.

“Archons?” Jules asked, a bit surprised.

“From Clan Saber,” Harrison explained. “We’re you’re neighbors from the east…about 4000 klicks or so.”

“Puts a new definition to ‘neighbor,’” the Corvati CEO noted. “Jules Portman. I run this little shindig here. You really flew all this way in those?” he asked, pointing to the skeets.

“They’re faster than they look,” Eric attested.

“We were out on a training flight anyway, so we figured we might as well stop by,” Harrison said. “We had a few bets going on how long you’d last. Several people thought you’d have called for assistance by now.”

“We’re getting by,” Jules said with a hint of pride. “How’s your Clan making out?”

Harrison and Eric exchanged glances, surprised by the question. “We’re well established, with a controlled rate of growth.”

“Controlled?”

“Planning for the long term rather than building up a lot of cheap infrastructure,” Harrison explained, glancing at the security officers’ holstered weapons. “You guys having some trouble?”

Jules noticed his line of sight. “No, no…just procedure. You’re the first visitors we’ve had since our arrival. If you’d like we can go inside and I can give you a rundown on our operations…if for no other reason than to foster more informed betting in the future.”

Eric laughed, and Harrison was forced to break a smile.

“Thank you, that would be most helpful,” he said, accepting the gesture with a hint of sarcasm.

“Come with me,” Jules said, leading them back off the landing pad. “We may not be Star Force, but I think I can convince you with a short tour that Corvati is at least competent.”

4

August 30, 2260

Epsilon Eridani System

Corneria

The first year of the Corvati colony, labeled ‘Outlook,’ was moderately successful and uneventful…yet surprisingly frustrating. No major hiccups had occurred, but the sheer number of replacement part orders Jules had been forced to put in worried him. He knew that wear and tear was normal and had brought a surplus of replacement parts with him in the initial transfer, but things were breaking that he’d never have guessed would break…a door handle here, the tread on a chair leg there. Such things weren’t critical, but they left a bad taste in his mouth as the colony got a worn down feel to it that was just the opposite of the image he wanted to create.

The broken items were fixed, of course, but most was patchwork and not what Jules felt was up to Star Force standards of craftsmanship, which he hoped to replicate out of a measure of pride. He’d learned quickly enough that it wasn’t the predictable problems that were the problem out on the frontier, but rather the unpredictable ones that you couldn’t plan ahead for.

Fortunately he still had the lifeline of the Star Force markets to work with, expensive as they were. The time delay, though, was annoying. Some material they kept on planet and could be requisitioned and purchases within a few days, the rest had to come from Sol and would take nearly 3 months to arrive. And usually something would break right after the last jumpship would come through, meaning that the 3 month resupply window would nearly double for the circuit of ships to make their way around to place the order, then transit again to fulfill it.

As soon as Jules got one batch of problems fixed another would pop up, leaving his colony functional but haggard. His people were doing good work, and over the first year they’d gotten the first permanent structure built…a residential complex that they were all now living out of. Most of the materials for it they had brought with them or purchased locally, but a bit of their mining spoils were included in the fabrication, making it feel like Corvati had a small claim to the colony rather than just being a Star Force transplant.

The dirt roads had all been paved and small sections of the growing city had some landscaping put in around the residential complex, transplanted by seeds and seedlings from Earth. That one pinprick of civilization gave Jules hope, but as for the rest of the colony it still had a very rough feel to it and seemed to be decades away from accepting any type of civilian influx that was one of Corvati’s and Davis’s standing goals for the colony.

Jules had wondered why the Archons would have been placing bets on how long they’d last, but after more than a year on the planet he thought he was finally beginning to understand. Building here wasn’t difficult in any normal fashion. The climate was agreeable and the terrain chosen was relatively flat. There was no wildlife to worry about, nor any close neighbors to pose security concerns. It was as peaceful a place as Jules had ever lived…but in that lay the problem. It was peaceful because there was nothing here.

They were on their own, and without his careful foreplanning the colony would most likely have collapsed by now. This definitely wasn’t an ‘on the job’ training experience because there was no safety net. Yes, Star Force was on planet to pull them out of the fire if they needed evacuation, but as far as the colony surviving and prospering it was all on them. There were no backups, no contingencies. It was sink or swim…and if you sank you were going home in shame.

Fortunately Outlook was swimming, even if it was just the dogpaddle.

A month ago Jules had passed the halfway mark in his 100 billion credit allotment, a bad sign considering he’d hoped to at least be partially self-sufficient by this point. Outlook did have a tiny amount of exports running, in the form of a trickle of precious metals being mined and sold on the Star Force market, but those credits coming in didn’t compare with those still flowing out. It would take him a long time to burn through the second half of that 100 billion, but the clock was ticking down regardless and Jules wanted to stop its progress sooner rather than later.

Still working out of the mobile command center, Jules watched as a new transport came down from the jumpship that had just arrived in orbit carrying his most recent purchase along with his first supplement of workers that would increase his meager population by 15%. His mining operations had expanded enough to require the industrial reinforcements, which the Corvati board had been pleased to supply. He’d just read their return message, transmitted down to the colony from the jumpship as soon as it made orbit.

Their tone, disguised as it may have been, was optimistic and praiseworthy. They congratulated Jules on how much he’d accomplished in such little time…yet to him it seemed like an eternity since they’d first arrived. In retrospect that was probably due to the long work hours and shorter days, which seemed to make time blur together in one long, unending train, but at least his efforts had been fruitful enough in their eyes to avoid any bureaucratic recriminations.

Then again, being so far away probably helped in that department.

Regardless as to Corvati’s true feelings, his additional workers were arriving and the mining apparatus coming down with them would double Outlook’s current capabilities…as well as replace a few broken pieces of machinery that hadn’t been properly calibrated to the idiosyncrasies of the Cornerian bedrock. That was one of the first little hiccups that’d occurred, and something they’d quickly learned from and added to the Corvati corporate planetary log, which would be used as a guidebook for all future operations on the planet, assuming this colony was a success and they were permitted future expansions.

“Jules, the dropship Captain wants to have a word with you,” Uriel said, walking up behind him and handing over a small earpiece transmitter, which he accepted and slid into place underneath his moderately long hair.

“Portman here.”

“This is Captain Dryson. I was wondering where exactly you’d like your boat deposited. We can offload it here, but if you like we can also put it down directly into the lake.”

“You can?” Jules asked, surprised.

“Takes a good pilot, but fortunately I’ve got one. I just need to know where you want it and have one of your people onboard when we set her down so she doesn’t go adrift.”

“Wonderful,” Jules said, getting anxious. “I’ll be right over and show you the coordinates myself.”

“Good,” Dryson said curtly. “See you in a bit.”

Jules smiled and headed out of the control center, turning to Uriel as he passed her by. “Get the dock crew on station.”

In the belly of the Dragon-class dropship remained the final piece of the Corvati shipment, now that all the other equipment and machinery had been offloaded…a double-hulled watercraft that would serve as a mobile command center on the lake. Jules stood on the bridge, a small circular room atop the building-sized boat with an array of windows allowing him to look out in any direction. Beside him stood one of the dropship’s crewers, feeding instructions directly to the pilot up on the bridge as the dropship skimmed over the lake to the point where Portman had instructed them to go.

Held in place by an inertial dampening field and gravity plates, the outer cargo door remained wide open, giving Jules a flying view of the trip out and over the forest to the edge of the lake, then down along the surface of the gentle waves that they were now passing over. Before long a small building with a dock poked its way onto the horizon of the shoreline and the crewer gave the pilot additional instructions over the comm.

The dropship slowed its flight and approached slowly, stopping a few hundred meters shy of the pier. Then to Jules surprise it began to drop down…with the lake water gushing up over the edge of the doorway and flooding into the bay!

“Relax,” the crewer told Jules, placing a firm hand on his shoulder, “we know what we’re doing.”

Jules didn’t offer any complaint, but had the unnerving feeling that the dropship was going to sink and pull his boat down with it, but the descent was smooth and bottomed out after the boat became buoyant and the crewer relayed that information up to the pilot while heading out the rear hatch and topside on Jules’ boat to disengage the mooring lines. He came back inside a few minutes later and powered up the engines, then very slowly maneuvered the boat across the now flooded bay towards the opening to the lake.

It wasn’t as tight a squeeze as Jules had thought, but the crewer didn’t take any chances and kept the edges of the boat away from any hazards, hitting the opening perfectly and trolling the boat out into the lake. Once clear, the Dragon slowly rose up with a waterfall spilling back out that Jules and the crewer watched from the boat as it lazily drifted on the sparkling clear lake.

“I believe that fulfills your order?” the crewer asked.

“I believe it does,” Jules echoed, shaking the man’s hand. “That’s one impressive delivery.”

“We aim to please,” he said as the Dragon finished emptying out and the crewer had another brief conversation with the pilot, prompting the dropship to start drifting their way overhead.

“Nice place you’ve got here. Perfect for some skiing,” he said as the dropship eclipsed the sun and a ladder extended down from above. “Wish I could stick around a while and help you break her in.”

“All work and no play, huh?” Jules joked as the man grabbed hold of the bottom rung as it drifted over the top deck.

“We’re professionals, so we don’t mind too much,” he said, stepping up, “but we also hate to pass up a good thing.”

“I understand. Consider yourself with a permanent invitation for the future, but you’ll have to bring your own ski gear, because we don’t have any.”

“I may take you up on that,” he said, throwing a quick salute before climbing up the ladder. A hand reached out at the top and helped him inside, then the ladder retracted and the massive doors began to slide shut as the dropship gained altitude and headed off across the lake away from shore and up into the sky.

“I really want one of those,” Jules said aloud, marveling at the dropship’s sheer size and design. Shaking his head in awe he turned around and stepped over into the bridge hub again, taking the helm and trolling the boat over to the pier where his people were waiting. With some help they got the boat moored and Jules lowered the cargo boarding ramp from the aft section that served as a landing pad/cargo platform as he traded places with the woman that would be serving as the boat’s pilot on a regular basis.

“Sweet ride, Cap,” she said as Jules handed over possession of the helm and bridge.

“That it is,” he said, going topside again and peering down over the observation platform’s aft rail as the first of several large buoys were being loaded onboard via forklifts driving out onto the pier and up the ramp onto the boat without too much visible give from the weight redistribution. The buoys had arrived in the dropship as well, and had been transported over land to the dock during the offloading.

Each was a miniature hydrogen producing station, equipped with wind, solar, and wave energy collection equipment that would produce electric current instantaneously to power the electrolysis of the lake water. The buoys would then collect the resulting hydrogen into tanks that the boat and crew would periodically collect. Their hydrogen production on land had been inadequate so far, so Jules had decided to make the addition of lake buoys after getting approval from Duke Hightower since their boundaries had technically only extended to the edge of the water.

Several more boat crew came aboard after finishing the first load of four buoys, leaving the remaining 36 for subsequent trips out onto the lake.

“Staying or going?”

Jules turned around, having been lost in thought for a moment. “Ah, I’m riding along on the first trip. Wouldn’t do to get a new toy without enjoying it for a while.”

“You want to drive?”

“No, no…I’m strictly a passenger on this cruise,” he said, smiling as he felt the gentle, cool breeze coming off the lake competing with the heat of the sun on his skin for dominance. He sucked in a deep breath, already feeling good about having made this purchase. It had seemed a bit over the top just to run out to the buoys and back, which smaller craft could have accomplished, but he’d wanted one large, more or less unbreakable piece in his supply chain that he wouldn’t have to worry about…the large party deck on top had just been an unexpected bonus.

“Sunscreen then?” she joked.

“I’ll manage, thanks,” he said, smile intact, as he turned his full attention back to the lake as the pilot retreated into the bridge and worked with the pier crew to get them underway.

As the boat started to move and the breeze increased Jules got the sense that Davis had been right about this being an ideal spot for a resort. He’d been so busy that he hadn’t had the time to really soak up the scenery, but then again he hadn’t been out on the water before either. Yes, this was going to be an ideal location if and when he could push his infrastructure to the point where he could establish a proper resort and begin accepting tourist traffic. That day was long in the future, but it comforted him to know that the location he’d been given had the potential to be very profitable if he could get this colony firmly established.

And that fact made all the annoyances he’d had to face over the past year more than worth the trouble.

5

July 9, 2261

Epsilon Eridani System

Corneria

Manfred Ilsa rode the freight elevator up to the nighttime surface, cursing his blasted memory every meter of the ascent. He’d forgotten his emergency locator again, and the mining foreman had sent him back up to get it out of his locker before he’d let him get to work in the subterranean tunnels, docking his pay for the number of minutes he wasted going back up to get the safety device. In case of cave-in or other emergencies the locator could be activated as a powerful beacon or short range comm device, making it an essential piece of their daily work garb.

Manfred hadn’t meant to leave it behind, knowing it was just hanging on the hook in his locker underneath an extra shirt where he couldn’t see it to remind him to put it on. He was as angry at himself as the foreman, because the only reason he’d come out here from Earth was for the pay. Five or six years of work would set him up with a tidy little retirement back home and the sooner he got to his requisite amount the better, and little deductions like he was incurring now were putting his departure date further and further back.

It was his own fault, he knew, but he needed to vent on something or someone, so everything that passed through his mind got a verbal licking…including the incompetent idiot tipping over one of the container crates on the loading dock as he tried to remove it from the top of the stack as Manfred came up the elevator. It cracked opened in a loud clatter, spilling solid metal bars all over, some of which slid out towards his feet. With each weighing 85 lbs, the danger of injury was extreme and the man deserved every bit of the vitriol that Manfred sent his way.

Around the 18th explicative there was a bright flash, followed by a burning sensation in Manfred’s chest that stalled further comment. He looked down in shock and horror, seeing the charred hole in his uniform along his left flank as blood began to pour out, soaking the surrounding material.

“No…son of a bitch, no,” he whispered, clutching to the wound to try and stop the bleeding as a second flash manifested on the perimeter of the flood lights, hitting him in the upper chest and putting an end to any further words. He crumpled to his knees, then tipped over forward onto the concrete. A few seconds later a thin pool of blood oozed out around his body, marking the spot of his death on the loading dock for weeks to come.

Sometime around 3am Jules woke to a loud knocking on his door. Being a light sleeper it roused him instantly and within a few seconds of regaining clarity he recognized the urgent power behind the knock as a sign that something was wrong.

He pulled his thin blanket off and walked over to his quarters’ entrance and opened the sliding door with a press of the wall button, finding Uriel waiting for him.

“What is it?” he asked. The look on her face told him that it was serious.

“Two men are dead…out at site 1.”

Jules face went slack. “How?”

Uriel hesitated. “We think they were shot.”

“Get Bates up here,” Jules said, referring to his chief of security as he turned around looking for a pair of shoes he could slip on.

“Bates is one of the dead men,” Uriel said, sniffling.

Jules turned back around in shock. “What? What was he doing out at the mining site?”

“No one knows. No one knows anything right now,” she said, tears starting to leak out of her eyes as she tried to remain composed.

Jules held up a hand to steady her…and himself. “Alright, let’s take this by the numbers. Assemble the senior staff, get security on maximum alert…if they aren’t already, and get Jennison to examine the bodies. I’ll meet you there after I get better dressed.”

Uriel nodded and scooted off, leaving Jules to hastily drag a uniform out of his closet and pull it on as his mind raced through the possibilities. There were only a few weapons in the colony, all of which belonged to security. If Bates was all the way out at the mining site then something had to be up, and it was likely that the killer was one of the security team, which was going to make this mess even worse.

To date there hadn’t been so much as a single altercation amongst the colonists and Bates had joked that he was being severely overpaid for his role here. Apparently he had been wrong, and Jules wished earnestly that he was still alive and able to help him sort all this out. The fact that he was one of the dead men really unnerved him, above and beyond that fact that he had just lost two of his people.

He grabbed a pair of shoes and forced himself to take the time to lace them up properly before rushing out the door, down the stairs, and across the street to the command center where the others were still gathering. He spotted Greggory, the second highest ranking security officer, and made a beeline to his position.

“What do we know?”

The man shook his head. “Not much. Two dead, killer’s whereabouts unknown. We think this happened about four hours ago but we can’t be sure because the bodies weren’t found until the shift change. They were on the loading dock. Ilsa was apparently sent back topside to get a locator beacon he left behind then never came back down. They found him dead just outside the elevator shaft. Bates was found on the far side, some 300 meters away, so we’re thinking it was two separate incidents. We’re pulling a weapons check now.”

“You have guards posted?”

Greggory nodded. “On the armory, dropships, and command center.”

“Where’s Jennison?”

“Not sure…probably attending to the bodies.”

“What about a head count?”

“Everyone at the mine is accounted for, and there are no vehicles missing.”

Jules shook his head. “Pull a full head count. I want everybody in lockdown until we find the shooter.”

“Alright, we can try that,” Greggory offered. “But it’ll have to be voluntary. I don’t have enough men to cover every building.”

“Keep everyone in groups then, even if they don’t have a guard. I don’t think this is a conspiracy, though in truth I really don’t know what is going on.”

Uriel walked up beside the pair, an even more urgent look in her eyes as Jules turned towards her. “We didn’t think to look before now. I don’t know how in the world someone could have pulled it off, and with the murders nobody thought to check…”

Jules put a firm hand on her shoulder to stop her rambling. “Check what?”

She bit her lip, almost as if she were about to get scolded for doing something wrong. “The ingots on the loading dock are gone.”

Jules blinked, unsure of what he was hearing. “Gone how?”

“They’re not there anymore,” Uriel said, not sure herself.

“How many are missing?”

“Unless our numbers are wrong…but I double checked them with the foreman…there were 18 crates waiting to be transferred over to the factories. They’re all missing.”

Jules released her shoulder and took a step back. “What the hell is going on here?” he said, looking around at the four other people in the command center holding similar conversations as they tried to piece together the growing mystery. They all stopped and turned to the colony director as his voice raised.

“Tell me how someone can move 18 four-meter square crates. I thought all our vehicles were accounted for?” he asked, turning back to Greggory.

“They are as of ten minutes ago.”

Jules threw his hands up in the air. “Where could they have even put them?”

One of the other men cleared his throat to get Jules attention, then meekly floated another possibility. “It might not have been an inside job.”

Jules’ eyes narrowed. “Is that possible?” he asked Greggory without looking at him.

“Without a sensor tower we don’t have any way to track air traffic. If Bates heard something and went to check on it…”

“The only people on the planet are Star Force, right?” Uriel asked the group.

“As far as I know,” Jules said icily, turning to another woman in the group. “Get me a comm channel to the Sabers.”

A little under four hours later, with the sun already having broken through into morning, a Mantis appeared over the lake and headed for the main landing pad. It settled down next to Jules’ dropships with a host of blue uniformed personnel spilling out immediately upon landing, half of which carried weapons. Leading them all was a quartet of Archons in their distinctive red-striped white uniforms, Harrison among them. He spotted Jules out of the waiting colonists and ran over to meet him while the others dispersed, already having been given deployment orders.

“I checked every sensor log we have,” the Archon said without preamble. “None of them cover your colony directly, but there has been no unaccounted for traffic in or out of any Star Force possession, and our orbital satellites haven’t picked up any high atmosphere traffic. I don’t have an answer to who did this, which means we have a significant problem. I brought a security team with me and have four more on the way. If whoever did this is still around, we’re going to make things difficult for them.”

“And if it’s one of our people you’ll be prepared as well?” Jules asked, following the other logic thread.

“Your lost cargo suggests otherwise, but I’m not ruling anything out at this point. You’ve confirmed it isn’t an accounting error.”

The way Harrison said it, Jules knew it wasn’t a recrimination, but rather a request to dismiss that possibility altogether.

“18 crates confirmed missing.”

“How much mass?”

Jules hesitated, concocting a ballpark estimate. “400 metric tonnes each, give or take.”

“And the only roads lead here?”

“Here, the other mining site, and the docks. Our boat is still moored and site 2 has already been searched.”

“Any other offshoots or paths along the roads?”

“Nothing vehicle sized, no,” Jules said, having already been up and down the connections himself looking for any break in the foliage.

“It had to be air then,” Harrison said with disgust. “Permission to examine the bodies?”

“Granted,” Jules said, pointing off to the west side of the city. “We have a small morgue…up until now we hadn’t had cause to use it. Doctor Jennison couldn’t find any remains of the bullets for analysis.”

“Show me,” Harrison insisted.

“This is Bates, our head of security,” Jules explained as Jennison pulled back the plastic cover on the body, revealing a mess of what used to be his chest.

“I counted four impact points,” the Doctor explained as Harrison and a Saber medic looked on. “The other has two, more distinct than this one,” he said, pulling back the plastic on Ilsa. “The points are separated enough to give a better impression of individual damage. Both men died of shock, coupled with severe loss of blood.”

“There’s charring,” the Saber medic said, taking a close look at Manfred’s wounds.

“My guess is they were attacked at point blank range, with the charring resulting from the power burn following the projectile.”

“You said there were no projectiles?” the medic clarified.

“None that I could locate, but as you can see,” Jennison said, flipping Manfred’s body over so they could see his back, “there’s a small exit wound here.”

“It’s charred too,” Harrison said, exchanging a glance with the medic.

Jennison shrugged. “Powder followed the bullet through, I’d guess.”

“No,” the medic said casually. “This isn’t bullet damage. All of your weaponry is projectile?” he asked Jules.

“Star Force wouldn’t sell us any of your stun weapons, so yes, they’re all projectile.”

The medic dug his finger around the man’s chest wound, feeling charred, stiff bits of flesh where normally there would have been soft gore.

“This is plasma,” he whispered to Harrison.

“That’s not what I wanted to hear,” the Archon said, knowing that meant either Star Force security forces or the Canderians were responsible. The other Archons were beyond reproach, and nothing happened in their Clans without them knowing about it.

“It’s worse than that,” the medic said, raising his voice back to normal tones. “This was a powerful weapon. There’s way too much tissue missing for our standard weaponry, and I don’t know of any that can leave an exit wound.”

“I know a few,” Harrison admitted, turning to Jules. “I don’t know what’s going on here, but I promise you we’re going to find out. These are either some highly placed traitors within Star Force, or someone got access to weaponry they weren’t sanctioned for. My Clan will watch over the colony until this is over, so you don’t have to live in fear of a repeat incident.”

“So you’re saying their deaths couldn’t have been at the hands of any of my own people?” Jules asked for clarification.

“I highly doubt it.”

“But you can’t rule it out entirely?”

Harrison sighed. “It’s possible there was an insider, but if that was so then it was probably an informant. Whoever shot these men did so with a weapon your people don’t have. The idea that someone could come here and give it to one of your men to use is farfetched. The weapon probably went with the attacker along with your missing cargo.”

“Any clues where they might have taken it to?”

“To avoid our sensor beacons they’d have had to stay far outside any Star Force installation and remain low enough to the ground to keep our tracking satellites from picking them up. Those satellites aren’t equipped with visual scanners so we have no surface surveillance to work with, and whoever pulled this job probably knows it. I’d bet they’ve got a rogue base out there with at least one Mantis, probably more if they took all 18 crates.”

“What can they do with the metals, other than sell them on the market, which you’d immediately know about?”

“One can never predict stupidity,” Harrison said angrily. “There’s no way Star Force is going to let them get away with this, especially on a planet where we control everything. No one else is even close to constructing a jumpship, which means they’re stuck in the system. No one else has any ships in Epsilon Eridani, which means they’re stuck on planet or in near orbit. Unless they’re planning to build something with the metals they stole from you I have no idea what they intend to do with them.”

“Do you have any suspicions?” Jules asked, being remarkably forgiving considering this appeared to be the work of Star Force personnel…but then again he knew it had to be rogue Star Force personnel, which meant Davis and his organization weren’t to blame any more than Corvati would have been if Bates’ and Ilsa’s murderer had been in their employ.

“I know where we’re going to start looking,” Harrison said firmly, “and as soon as we can get enough birds in the air we’re going to start a perimeter search around Outlook and expand outwards until we find their hidden base. I’d also like to install a sensor tower here, with your permission?”

“On the condition that you allow Corvati to purchase it from you. It’s an oversight on my part for not having one in the first place.”

“If you wish, but the fault isn’t Corvati’s or yours. Star Force is responsible for planetary security. You’re supposed to be able to build here without worry.”

“If this were your colony, yours personally, would you leave it blind and defenseless counting on Star Force for protection?”

“No,” Harrison was forced to admit.

“An oversight on my part,” Jules reiterated. “Get that tower here ASAP…I’ll let you pay for the shipping.”

“Deal,” the Archon relented. “Now get me out to the mining site.”

6

July 12, 2261

Epsilon Eridani System

Corneria

The small Sparrow-class dropship hovered over the elevated landing platform just poking up over the tree line and descended down to the metallic deck plates, settling into place on landing skids and lowering the access ramp, disgorging the most recent shift change of Canderian workers. A quartet of armed security guards came with them, each wearing the distinctive, helmetless flexible body armor that would stop a knife or small caliber bullets while leaving them aptly mobile.

As the new workers scurried off to the descending stairwell in the corner of the rectangular pad, the lone guard on duty met up with the others mid distance offering a quick, two-fingered salute against his chest plate.

“Any activity?” Niles asked.

“None yet, Centurion,” the Triarii answered formally, though the two men knew each other well.

With a flick of his head Niles dispatched the other Triarii while he remained on the platform with Frank as the outgoing shift started to come up the stairs to board the dropship. He took a step closer to the lower ranking Canderian and kept his voice down.

“Star Force has picked up a sensor ghost in their records. The Archons think we might be dealing with some sort of stealth craft, so we’re increasing the guard on our surface sites. If they’re bold enough to hit us, we’ll be ready to hit back.”

“Are you taking command?”

Niles shook his head. “Just came along for the ride. Spread the word around, quietly. They hit Corvati during the night, so make sure your people are wearing night vision glasses and assign a Venator for the forest.”

Frank nodded. “We won’t be caught off guard.”

Niles clapped his hand on the man’s armored shoulder. “I would hope not, but I know how boring these patrols can be.”

“A chance for a bit of action will keep everyone on edge.”

“One of the dead Corvati was their security chief,” Niles said as he stepped into line as the last of the outgoing shift workers passed by, underscoring the fact that these thieves should not be taken lightly. He boarded the dropship and traveled back up into low orbit to the tiny artificial moon that was their home.

The spherical space station held 30,000 of his fellow Canderians with room for another 10,000 as their population grew. As per their code, the Canderians only lived in space. The surface site Niles had just visited was a resource collection base with a temporary encampment. The security guards he’d just sent down would live there for a week or so, then rotate back up to their ‘seda,’ the Canderian word for ‘home’ but which also meant their station of origin or allegiance.

Nile’s current seda was the dark green sphere the dropship was quickly approaching, but he’d been born on one of the Jupiter stations. When the expansion allotment had come through he’d volunteered and, based on his proficiency scores, had been granted the posting. He’d lived in Cornerian orbit for the past 8 years, rising to the 4th level ranking of Centurion in the security forces. Given that all Canderians were combat trained, the security forces necessarily had to be a notch above the rest and were viewed in a slightly elevated social position versus the other divisions of Canderian society.

He was one of 16 Centurions assigned to the K1 seda, currently the only branch of Canderous within the star system. All seda within the Solar System were given ‘A’ monikers, while those in the Proxima system had a ‘B,’ Alpha Centauri had a ‘C’ and so forth. Epsilon Eridani was the 11th star system by distance from Sol, and Canderous had at least 1 seda in each system, some of which were still being constructed. Sol had 34 seda last he checked, with the newer ones being progressively larger in size.

K1’s highest security rank at present was 5th level, a Tribune, overseeing 6 Centurions, which oversaw 6 Evocati, which oversaw 6 Triarii, which oversaw 6 Munifex. There were 3 Tribunes at present, with Arc Tribune Raines overseeing seda security. The Epsilon Eridani System, being a new expansion to Canderous, did not have a full legion at present, so no Legat, the 6th rank, had been assigned. Raines also held default status as system commander in the absence of a Legat.

This made Niles one of the highest ranking Canderians within the system, overseeing 258 men at maximum. Raines had given his ‘century’ the duty of overseeing the security of K1’s surface mining sites while the other Centurions dealt with matters inside the station. In some respects this made his century more respected, given that they had field duty…but it also meant they were isolated, something Canderians were not accustomed to, having lived in such close confines inside their seda.

At present there were six Canderian mining sites on Corneria, isolated inside the deep forest and far away from any of the colonies. The materials they were harvesting from the planet’s crust were being used to increase K1’s stores and reduce the amount of material having to be shipped out to them from other seda in order to establish themselves in this system.

Niles had one other surface site under his protection, though ‘mining’ didn’t quite describe it. It was a water collection station situated at one of Corneria’s many lakes and from it continual shipments of fresh, processed water were being shuttled up to the seda, gradually filling its internal reservoir. That gave him 7 sites to secure with his 258 men, of which he had to continually rotate back up to the seda for additional training and rest.

 This trip down was the first of the seven he was making, delivering a few additional men into the rotation along with a warning. Less than a day after the raid on the Corvati the Archons had arrived on the seda demanding answers, thinking that someone within Canderous was responsible. With a detailed analysis of their records they were able to rule out this possibility, after which the Archons revealed that the two Corvati men that had been killed had fallen to plasma-based weapons.

As far as anyone knew, the only people with plasma weapons were the Archons, high ranking members of Star Force security, and Canderous. This left a very unpleasant mystery to solve, and the Archons left the seda upon giving orders that they tighten their security. They wanted these thieves discovered, and since Canderous also had surface mining sites it was speculated that they might also be targeted.

Niles understood their dilemma. Canderous was the only other rogue organization within the star system aside from the Corvati colony. If neither of them had been responsible for the raids that left few others to blame. While it was possible that someone within Star Force had set this up, doing so was a short trip to a bad ending. The Archons obviously weren’t going to let this slide, and whoever was responsible could be tracked down easily enough given the sparse population within the system.

Niles couldn’t understand how someone could be so stupid as to even think about pulling something like this…but so far whoever the idiot was had gotten away with it, but only by attacking the lone soft target on the planet. If they had the gall to hit a Canderian facility, they were going to have a very rude surprise waiting for them.

Which was what made Niles wonder if the thieves really were Canderians. He didn’t want to consider that possibility, but with so few others it would have been irresponsible not to. Bottom line was they needed to figure out who the culprits were, and if they truly were Canderian they wouldn’t hit one of his sites without sufficient planning…which made reinforcing his security teams even more important.

When the dropship arrived back on the seda it refueled and loaded up with another shift that Niles escorted back down to another mining site, along with yet more guards. He repeated the process with each site, giving personal orders to make sure everyone understood what was at stake and that they needed to pay extra attention to detail.

Four days later Frank woke up for his night shift, reflexively rolling out of his bunk at the sound of his wristwatch alarm. He dressed in a casual uniform and caught a bit of ‘breakfast’ in the cafeteria, then headed over to the armory to get suited up.

He arrived at about the same time as the other four members of his watch, each of which went straight to their lockers and began stripping out of their uniforms, which they neatly folded up and put onto a shelf in their oversized lockers for use when they finished their patrol. Frank, standing in nothing but a skintight set of briefs and socks, pulled out the various pieces of his armor and slipped them on one at a time.

He started with the boots that extended up to above his knees, stepping into the right one and wiggling it on before doing the same with the left, snugging up the fit with a series of external dials hidden within the knobby pads. Once secured, he pulled out the belt piece that looked like an hourglass when flattened out. He wedged it between his legs and pulled it up around his pelvis, snapping the belt together on the left and right sides.

With that in place, Niles grabbed his right leg gauntlet and wrapped it around his quadriceps. A few well practiced movements and the attachments at the knee and hip joint snapped into place, completing the nearly watertight seal. He repeated the process with the left gauntlet then pulled on his chest armor, which was open along the shoulders so he could slip it on over his head. It attached at the waist with an extra flexible piece, then Frank closed the shoulder flaps with hard, curved caps settling over the clasps.

Lastly he pulled on the arm gauntlets, attaching them at the shoulders. His hands remained free of armor, as did his head. The Canderians had much more stiff, full body armor available, but they’d found that this flexible armor worked far better for surveillance given that they could move around quietly and keep their senses alert, not having their eyes, ears, and nose buffeted by a helmet. 

Once he double checked all his fasteners, Frank pulled a hip holster out of his locker and attached it to his upper right leg in a slot premade for it on the armor’s exterior. No belt was necessary, as there were dedicated latches on the belt piece and leg gauntlet for it to snap into place. Into the empty holster he slipped a fully loaded stinger pistol, flipping the charge switch on as he did so. That way it would be ready to fire in a split second if trouble arose…otherwise he’d have to wait several precious seconds for the first few rounds to soak up the stun charge.

With the pistol as his backup weapon, Frank pulled a plasma rifle off a rack on the far wall. He didn’t take one of the preloaded ones which were prepped for immediate, emergency use. Instead he grabbed a recently cleaned empty one and a box of shells, then sat down on a bench and began to load the weapon.

The thick rifle was vertically aligned, having a very narrow cross section but a board-like side view, narrowing at the end of the barrel making the whole assembly look like a sword out of Final Fantasy. Frank broke the straight butt of the rifle away just aft of the trigger assembly and set it aside. Just ahead of the trigger assembly, which was within the line of the rifle rather than hanging below it, he slid open a small hatch that opened up the forward ammunition hold.

He opened the box of shells and began sliding them into the hold one by one.

Each shell contained both the energy charge and physical material necessary to create plasma. Upon triggering the round, the hyper-compressed xenon gas would be bombarded with electrical energy, contained within a small capacitor located inside the shell. The gas would ionize and break containment at the weakest forward section. As it did so, the barrel of the rifle would magnetize and push the ionized gas out like the slug of a rail gun, forming a short, glowing ‘squirt’ of plasma. Different elements produced different colors, but as far as he knew all Star Force plasma firearms used xenon, which glowed painfully blue.

After he finished filling the forward ammo hold he began adding shells into the disconnected aft piece. Once full and reattached, the rifle would hold 432 shots total, with 207 of them being quickly replenishable through a quick release swap-out with another preloaded aft piece. Frank wouldn’t be carrying any spares, but knew where to find them in the security outposts if needed, stashed into hideaways in case of a prolonged fight.

He clicked the aft piece into place then checked to make sure the rifle’s power charge was full. While the shells contained the energy needed to make the plasma, the rifle’s own power source was required to magnetize the barrel and propel it to target.

Seeing that it was at 97% he set he rifle down on a nearby table and removed the power charge, sliding the rectangular cube out of the side of the area just above the trigger. He replaced it with another and rechecked the rifle charge meter, which now read 100%.

Frank carried the rifle back over to his locker, from which he slipped a small knife and inserted it into a hidden sheath on the outside of his left calf, after which he grabbed his night vision glasses and earpiece, then closed the locker.

The others were more or less ready to go when he was, so he waited another 30 seconds for everyone to finish up and they walked out of the armory as a unit over to the security outpost on the other side of the compound looking up at the underside of the high topped landing pad, under which several buildings were sprawled. The entrance to the mine shafts were nearby, with the rest of the necessary processing buildings arrayed in a small circle.

The security outpost was located near the center of that circle, with two guards inside and another two on patrol walking laps around the short streets and perimeter. A fifth was stationed out in the forest as Venator, roaming about with no particular pattern and making for a wildcard should anyone try to exploit the static security measures. That man was just now returning inside the perimeter as the two patrolmen circled back to the outpost as their replacements arrived.

Without any unnecessary chatter the five Canderians swapped places with their counterparts. Frank was tagged as the Venator for this patrol, so he quietly made his way out of camp and into the forest, losing himself in the foliage and becoming a ghost in the night.

Two hours later, crouched into a sitting position with his back up against a tree and rifle laying across his knees, Frank heard the first faint hum of engines, which sent a surge of adrenaline up his spine. He strained to get a direction on the sound, then stood up slowly as a craft flew over his position, up above the treetops where he couldn’t see it, and in towards the camp at a creep.

Keeping to cover and brush as much as possible, Frank followed them in, noticing that they were heading towards the storage area on the north side of the platform. When the ship emerged from the canopy and dipped down towards the ground it finally cleared the high leaves enough for him to get a good look at it. His nightvision glasses produced a yellowish tint to everything, but the blocky outlines of the craft stood out in contrast to the naturalistic surroundings, revealing some type of transport that he’d never seen before…and it clearly wasn’t Star Force construction.

The idea that some other faction had found their way to Epsilon Eridani without Star Force knowing about it didn’t make any sense, but that wasn’t for him to worry about now. Whoever was on that ship was going after their cargo crates, just like they’d done with the Corvati. They had a full load of materials that were scheduled to be shipped up to the seda tomorrow morning waiting to be transferred up to the top of the landing pad…and there was no way Frank was going to let them steal from Canderous.

On top of that, he intended to steal their ship.

“Contact coming to ground,” he whispered, touching his earpiece as he quickly jogged forward.

“Copy that,” a voice replied, equally low. “Wait till they get boots on the ground.”

Frank understood what that meant and pushed his pace, wanting to get in position before the fireworks started.

From a distance he saw a side hatch on the hovering ship open up and a large forklift-like device drop out over the edge…then bounce back up on an invisible cushion as it ‘hit’ the ground. It moved towards the crate stack, lowering its angular forks to the ground to slide them underneath the first metal-loaded industrial box. Behind it a pair of figures dropped out of the hold and disappeared into the shadows.

A heartbeat later a stealthy pair of stingers shot out towards one of the targets that Frank couldn’t see or hear, the sound of his own footsteps and the distance involved covering the muffled wisps of the pistol fire, but he couldn’t miss the green plasma lance that returned from the interloper. He couldn’t tell if anyone had been hit, but he did see three blue lances return fire on the target…then all hell broke loose.

7

Half a dozen more enemies dropped out of the hold, scattering when they hit the ground and running for cover. One of them was hit as he began to move, but the others got clear and began returning fire, with the green lances now outnumbering the blue. To make matters worse the ship opened up a small port and extruded a turret that fired a large green orb of plasma that exploded on impact, spraying dirt and burning filaments everywhere.

Frank broke into a run, but didn’t head straight for the engagement. Coming in from outside he had an advantage if he kept to the forest so he headed north and flanked the position of the ship, making a hard right pivot and down a slight ridgeline so he could come in from behind the enemy. He’d been forced to turn his attention away from the firefight while he trekked up and around the edge of the camp, but now as he came back in towards the edge of the forest and the clearing surrounding the camp he saw one of the enemy taking cover behind the edge of a building.

Shock nearly froze him, but Frank’s training served him well as he dropped to a knee and lined up a long shot. He fired three quick rounds, hitting the target in the back just above its tail and dropped it to the ground. Meanwhile the ship’s cannon was making a mess of the camp, and he could only hope that the others were going evasive.

As his eyes scanned the area for more targets he noticed with dismay as the enemy forklift was still going after the crates even as the battle was raging on. Apparently they intended to rob them regardless of the amount of resistance they put up. That wouldn’t do at all.

Jumping up into a sprint, Frank dashed out of the edge of the forest and up to the back of their grounded ship, slipping down and underneath the hull as it floated on an anti-grav cushion. He saw two sets of legs on the far side and fired at both, clipping one set that ran off while the other fell to the ground giving Frank an easy shot at its torso. He fired two solid blue lances, one of which hit the creature in its scaly head, blowing out a small section of its skull.

Frank scanned the area underneath the ship again, seeing no other targets, then pulled back out and circled around, intent on going after the forklift. His effort came up short as a green flash of plasma hit the ship next to his head, prompting him to turn back the way he’d come, using the ship’s hull for cover.

Knowing his feet were exposed as well, he ran along the outside of the port hull and up towards the front end where most of the fighting was taking place. Halfway up that side he spotted another of the aliens and fired. His shot missed low and splattered dirt up on the lizard/man, causing it to jerk back around. Its head twitched in surprise at seeing him approach, then Frank blew out its left knee with another shot. To the creature’s credit, it stayed on its feet until a wave of plasma shots came in from the left and took it to the ground.

Frank kept his face forward but glanced left, seeing a knot of armed workers and off duty security poking weapons out of a side building. Apparently they’d been able to make it over to the armory, which meant the Canderians now had numbers on the attackers.

In response to the new threat the ship’s cannon swiveled around and targeted the building, blowing apart the main door with the first shot and scattered debris like a fragmentation grenade. No return fire manifested from the building, meaning either they were dead, incapacitated, or had fled into the back…none of which was a good sign right now.

Knowing they had to do something about that cannon, Frank moved forward up towards the blunt nose of the craft until he could see the muzzle of the weapon sticking out ahead of him. Hugging the hull as close as he could, he moved up until he was about ten meters away from it and fired three rounds at the stubby barrel.

A force field flashed into place as the plasma hit, protecting the weapon that now started tracking Frank’s way.

Knowing that even a close hit would hurt him, the Canderian ducked under the ship and rolled sideways as fast as he could. He felt a wash of pressure and heat cook his right side as he flipped over onto his back, then it dissipated as he continued his roll. The ship was sitting about a meter off the ground, and he desperately hoped none of them got the idea of flipping off the engines and smashing him flat. To avoid that possibility he stopped his roll when he came over onto his stomach for the third time and began crawling towards the starboard side in a hurry.

Outside the ship there was a large ‘crack’ accompanied by a flash of light that Frank recognized as a Canderian grenade, though he didn’t see who’d thrown it or where it’d hit with the ship obscuring most of his view. What he could see as he approached the far side was the bottom of the fork lift dig down into the dirt and slide forward into the side of the ship four meters ahead of him.

The underside of the ship just above his head moved from the impact and Frank scurried back for a second, not wanting to get pinned. The ship leveled out soon after the impact momentum bled off and Frank took advantage of the newly formed cover as he slipped out from under the ship, but aft of the downed forklift. He stepped out and stood up…staring face to face with the driver.

Both soldiers went for their weapons, but Frank had the advantage that his was already in hand while the lizard’s was still in a hip holster. The point blank plasma blast tore through the chest armor the creature was wearing and knocked it back a step, the scent of cauterized blood filling the air. Frank fired three more times while stepping forward, then used the butt of his rifle to knock the alien’s pistol aside as it tried to aim at him.

A good kick in the midsection took the creature to the ground and Frank poured four more shots into its chest at point blank range for good measure before stepping over it and grabbing the dropped pistol, flinging it far underneath the ship and out of reach of anyone else. He crept around the back end of the lifter as another cannon blast hit a nearby building that he saw Nicholas taking cover behind, then a hail of incoming plasma shots again became visible to Frank’s eyes. All across the front arc of the ship the attackers were taking hits from more than 20 men while the aliens’ deployed troops were clinging to cover behind some of the damaged crates, with the metal bars within soaking up all the plasma damage that could be thrown at them.

Suddenly there was an ear piercing mechanical whistle that made Frank grimace. Upon hearing it all the lizards began backtracking towards the open access door just ahead and to Frank’s left where the lifter had been trying to enter. The Canderian shot two on approach as they figured their back arc was still secure while several others jumped up and in…far more than he’d realized had been deployed.

As soon as they were inside the ship rose up and took to the air. Frank fired a few shots at its underside, which ironically made little imprints where the plasma hit, along with the salvos coming from the other Canderians as they melted away tiny bits of hull armor…but no shields popped into place to prevents the hits, making Frank wonder if they had only been built in to protect the ship’s guns.

Not counting it all clear yet, Frank began a visual sweep of the area searching for other threats and policing the bodies of the lizards he’d just shot. An arm movement from one prompted shots from three different Canderians almost simultaneously, putting an end to that potential threat as more and more people began emerging from cover. Overhead the ship disappeared across the edge of the forest canopy, quickly gaining altitude and speed.

“I’m clear,” a voice said through his earpiece.

“Same here,” another said.

“Clear,” he echoed into his comm.

He expected two more voices but only one replied after a few seconds delay. “I’m hit.”

“Where are you?” Frank asked immediately.

“50 meters south of you.”

Frank jerked his head around and began running, still keeping his peripheral senses alert for trouble as he searched for Henry. A few steps later he saw a rubble pile that had been the corner of one of the buildings before the ship’s cannons had knocked it down…underneath it was half a body sticking out, rifle held in hand.

“Injury report,” Frank demanded, putting his rifle on the ground beside him as he started carefully pulling debris off the Munifex.

“Don’t know,” he said, spitting out a bit of blood. “Numb below the waist.”

Frank paused a moment to reach up to his earpiece. “Find the medic and get an evac dropship down here now!” he ordered.

“We’ve got more wounded,” Nicholas replied. “And Wex is dead.”

“Work the problem,” Aaron cut in. “I’ve got the perimeter, you guys see to the wounded.”

“Copy,” Frank said, continuing to pull pieces of concrete-like building off of Henry.

“Think…my back is broke,” Henry said.

“Stay still until we get the medic,” he said, pulling a bundle of wiring out of the heap and tossing it aside, glad that it wasn’t electrically active.

“What were they?” Henry asked, breathing progressively harder as the seconds ticked by.

“Not Human.”

“Their ship didn’t show up on sensors…until they were on top of us.”

“We’ll find them,” Frank promised as he removed the last piece of debris and inspected Henry’s legs. By the odd way they were laying he knew his fellow Canderian had at least three broken bones. Several blood spots had already formed on his armor, prompting a frown from Frank.

Henry saw what he was looking at. “Damn cannon splash damage…right before the wall came down.”

“You’re going to bleed out,” he said, looking around for that blasted medic.

“I know…how many did we get?”

“I got at least four from behind,” he said, seeing and pointing at a nearby worker, then motioning him over. “Give me your shirt.”

The man pulled his uniform top off without question and handed it to Frank who began slicing it up with the knife from his boot. He made a patch out of it and put it on one of the breach points in Henry’s armor. “Hold.”

The worker stepped in and applied pressure, trying to staunch some of the bleeding while Frank cut another patch.

“I…don’t think I’m…gonna make it.”

“Stay awake!” Frank urged.

“Trying…” Henry said, his eyes starting to disfocus.

“Step aside!” a man yelled right behind Frank’s ear. He turned back and saw the uniform of a medic, then jumped out of the way gratefully.

The medic pulled a quick injection vile out of a kit and jammed it into the side of Henry’s neck, making the already teetering man pass out. He reached up and grabbed the rim of his right arm and disconnected the armor latches, pulling that section free then attached a metallic brace around his arm. He inserted a needle in the contraption directly into one of his veins and started the artificial blood flowing in as he attached a liquid-filled sack onto the brace.

That done, he attended to the blood leaks in the man’s broken legs using a can of sticky spray foam that filled the crevice the plasma had burned out, sealing up the wound and preventing further loss of blood. Upon reaching a medical facility the foam could be melted away with a special liquid, but until then it would work as a temporary bandage…though a painful one, which was one reason he’d knocked Henry unconscious before starting to work on him.

As the medic continued to examine him as best he could while still in his armor he found another wound in his lower back where a piece of the rubble had punched through at the base of his spine.

“He said his lower body was numb,” Frank offered.

“His spine has probably been severed. We can fix this if we can get him back to the seda in time.”

Frank reached up to his earpiece. “Report on our medical evac?”

“On its way,” Nicholas replied.

“I’ve done what I can,” the medic said, looking at Frank. “Don’t try to move him.”

“Stay with him,” Frank told the worker as the medic scurried off, then he too left, knowing that useless sentiment wasn’t going to help his friend. He needed to focus on doing something useful.

Frank walked around a bit, surveying the damage and the other wounded. He counted seven before a large knot of people attracted his attention. He went over and saw Nicholas in the center of them, examining three of the dead aliens they’d dragged over. Their equipment had been stripped off and laid to the side, including weapons, belts, wrist devices, and what looked like a forehead halo.

“What have we got?” he asked Nicholas, who only looked up when Frank bumped him in the shoulder.

“They’re built Human. Head, two arms, two legs. Pelvis and spine are similar. Not sure if that tail is manipulatable or just a decorative appendage. They were walking around like we do, but I also saw one shrink down and slither away on all fours, so I’m not sure what to make of them. I thought they were Human when the firefight started.”

“So did I,” Frank admitted, toeing one with his armored boot. “Four digits.”

“You think they’re indigenous?”

“If they are, then Star Force royally screwed up,” he said, looking at the peculiar body armor it was wearing, which left the head and arms completely exposed, but had the legs and torso covered. The feet were also exposed, but they didn’t resemble feet as he knew them. They looked only a little thicker than the thing’s hands.

“What do you want done with the bodies?”

“Drag the rest over here and keep a guard on them until reinforcements arrive. For all we know they could regenerate.”

Nicholas glanced at the obviously dead bodies and raised an eyebrow.

“We don’t want any more surprises,” Frank reiterated.

“Right,” Nicholas said, walking off in search of another of the fallen aliens.

“How’s the perimeter?” Frank asked into his earpiece.

“All quiet,” Aaron reported. “They made off with four crates by my count.”

“Damn,” he whispered, glancing back at the dead ones. “I suppose the sensor tower couldn’t track them on the way out either?”

“Negative. Other than extreme close range their ship is a ghost. They were headed on a northwest track, if that means anything.”

“It might. We’ll let the Tribune and Archons worry about that. As soon as you’re satisfied, we could use some help tagging and bagging.”

“On my way now,” the other Triarii said.

Frank stared down into the cold, dead, bulging black eyes of the nearest lizard, feeling a mix of anger and anticipation. He didn’t like taking casualties or losing cargo, but for Canderous this was their first blooding and they’d succeeded in driving the raiders off. He doubted this would be their one and only meeting, which meant they finally had a real enemy to face instead of repetitive simulations and contests amongst themselves.

The Canderian didn’t know the size, strength, or origin of their new enemy, or anything else about them to be blunt, but he was eager to find out, as opposed to the Corvati who’d been rattled to the core by their attack. Frank and the Canderians were soldiers, trained from birth for combat. For better or worse they needed action, a legitimate fight they could throw themselves at in order to prove themselves and rid Canderous of its green birth. The Archons had done plenty to teach them humility and give them a challenge, continually thrashing them in training exercises but this was different. This was for keeps. This was real.

This was war.

Frank sucked in a deep breath of air, feeling for the first time in his life like a real soldier rather than a glorified newb. They didn’t ask for this fight, but they’d got it anyway, as the Archons had said would eventually happen. A righteous war, they’d said, would come in time. Creating one by misdeeds was both unnecessary and against the very code of the warrior. Patience, they’d urged, and the righteous war would come to them.

And now it was here.

Frank didn’t know what all this meant, other than there was no turning back. Canderous had seen blood. Canderous had seen victory. Canderous was no longer green. If it was a fight these lizards wanted, then Canderous would oblige, with or without Star Force, for now they’d finally proven that they could stand alone and that, above and beyond  his own 4 kills, filled Frank with an indescribable pride.

8

July 13, 2261

Epsilon Eridani System

Corneria

Harrison walked into the room where they had the alien corpses on the seda along with Mara-677, seeing that the other three Corneria Clan leaders were already present. His eyes went directly to the lizards’ faces, scrutinizing every facet of their scaly visages…then he breathed a sigh of relief.

They weren’t V’kit’no’sat.

“I don’t recognize them,” San-1299 said to Harrison, leaning on the examining table with both hands as he stared down at one of the corpses.

The Saber nodded his agreement. “This is something new.”

Tribune Raines, the only Canderian in the room, blinked in surprise. “You’re aware of other aliens?”

“Yes,” Anders-743 answered, “but none are supposed to be in this star system.”

Raines frowned. “You didn’t think you could trust Canderous with that knowledge?”

“Actually Canderous does know,” Harrison said. “Information is restricted to Legats and above. You’re now the lowest ranking Canderian with that knowledge and it stays with you until orders to the contrary.”

Raines nodded curtly. “Understood. How many others are we talking about?”

“We have data from a classified source detailing thousands of races. To date we haven’t encountered any of them, so this attack is as much of a surprise to us as it is to you.”

“What concerns me more is this inability for our sensors to detect them,” Jaime-532 said.

Harrison glanced over the table at the local Sangheili leader. He was only two levels below him in rank, making them essentially tied for unofficial leadership in the system.

“We were able,” Raines pointed out, “to pick them up at extreme close range. Not enough for sufficient warning or tracking, but at least their ship isn’t completely invisible to sensors. If we could get aircraft in the vicinity of their next attack, then it might be possible to track them at night if we stay close.”

Mara shook her head. “The skeets have less sensor capability than your tower did. If we’re going to track them we’re going to have to stick them with a beacon or follow them on visuals.”

“They ran off this time,” San pointed out. “Are you sure they’ll be back to try again?”

Raines locked eyes with the Archon. “Either we scared them off, or they’ll move onto a softer target. Lacking such a target, they’ll either give up their raids or increase their attacking force to overcome our defenses.”

Harrison nodded distractedly, still staring at the lizard bodies. “He’s right. We’re not going to catch them off guard again. The big question is where are they coming from. Does anyone have even the faintest of leads?” 

All four Archons shook their head in the negative, while Raines held perfectly still. He was by far the most junior member of the group, and it appeared that he felt the disparity in the way he was constantly standing at attention.

Mara turned to look at Raines after a brief moment of silence. “Are you wanting air cover for your surface facilities?”

Raines stiffened even further. “We have no such assets in the system, and without the ability to track the raiders remotely they can retreat and disappear at will.”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Mara said, crossing her arms over her chest as she thought. “The question is this…are we trying to take the ship down or track it back to base?”

San sighed. “We might want to let them take a shipment with a beacon hidden inside, set on a timer. They steal it, take it back to base, then an hour or two later it goes off giving us their location.”

“Now there’s an idea,” Anders agreed. “Trick is knowing where they’ll hit next.”

“Their hull might block the signal,” Harrison said, dashing the idea. “Let’s look at this from a different perspective. If they have a base out there, where is it likely to be?”

“Star Force did an extensive survey of the planet,” Jaime reminded them. “If it’s down there then it’s either subsurface or of new construction.”

“What about the other planets?” Mara asked.

“All were surveyed,” Jaime continued, “but only the habitable ones were overly scrutinized. These things are air breathers?” the Sangheili asked.

“Yes,” Raines confirmed.

“I bet they’ve got a ship in orbit,” Anders said bluntly. “If they’re invisible to our sensors then they could be parked right outside and we wouldn’t know it.”

Raines neck suddenly twitched and he put a hand up to his earpiece reflexively as he received a message from the seda’s command center. His face screwed up with anger as he looked towards Harrison.

“They’re hitting us again, same location, multiple ships,” he reported before hustling out of the morgue.

“Is it the night cycle already?” Mara asked, thinking otherwise for that particular location on the planet.

“No. They’re hitting us in the daylight this time,” Raines said as he ducked into a nearby elevator. The Archons followed him in and were quickly spirited off towards the seda’s interior.

“All Clan Samus warships are in high orbit,” Anders said, glancing at the others. “Anybody got anything closer?”

“We do,” Mara said. “I diverted a corvette to low orbit yesterday.”

“1st fleet has six warships in low orbit,” Harrison said, referring to the non-Clan Star Force defense fleet, “and Clan Saber has 9. One of them has got to be within visual range.”

“We’ve got two,” Jaime said, glancing at San.

The Ninja Monkey shook his head in the negative. “Our fleet is holding in Dxun orbit.”

“How much did you reinforce?” Harrison asked the Canderian.

“I’ve got 21 men on site with some heavy weaponry,” Raines said as the elevator arrived at its destination. He followed the Archons out onto the compact walkway ringing a central pit. Along the outside of the ring were stations imbedded into the wall and wedged shoulder to shoulder with about 1 in every 4 currently occupied.

“Centurion?” Harrison asked the woman standing in the pit looking down on a small holographic map along with three other Canderians.

“They’re sacking the place,” she said with disgust. “No reports of troop landings. Our people have scattered into the forest while they’re taking the buildings apart from the air.”

“We need comms,” Jaime said.

Raines snapped his fingers to get his people’s attention, as well as signaling that they should follow the order in the efficient ‘ditto’ Canderian custom.

“Where to?” one of the other Centurions asked, walking to the side of the pit and flipping on equipment at an empty station.

“We need five lines,” Jaime explained, “to each Clan.”

Two more officers stepped up and began prepping stations.

“It’ll take hours for air support to arrive,” Harrison pointed out.

“We can at least get the clock ticking,” Jaime noted, sitting down and accepting an earpiece. “Give the ground troops an ETA and something to hold out for. If the raiders stick around long enough we might even be able to pick up their trail if we’ve got enough birds in the air coming from multiple directions.”

“I’m sold,” Anders said, setting down at another station and making contact with Clan Samus’s colony on the surface.

“Star Fox can do better than hours,” Mara said, nudging ahead of Harrison for the next open comm station.

“Ninja Monkey is closest, by my reckoning,” he differed, “and they’re still 3,000 kilometers away.”

“We’re 4,500 and we’ll beat you all there,” she said, making contact and holding up a ‘wait’ finger to stall any further questions from Harrison. “This is Mara…get me Brad, Ally, and Ras in the air in the prototype skeets inside of 5 minutes, coordinates to follow. Make sure they’re armed, we’ve got a fight on our hands.”

Mara used the holographic map for reference and began constructing a crude heading to feed her pilots once they lifted off.

“Prototypes?” Harrison asked as he sat down at his own terminal.

“Very fast at high altitude. They can be there inside of half an hour.”

“You been holding out on us?”

“We’re still working out the glitches,” she said, unabashed.

“They will get there in one piece, right?”

“Did I say glitches? Let me rephrase. We’re summarizing our data before we file a report with Star Force. They’ll get there.”

“How’d you manage that?”

“A little trick with the shield generator.”

Brad ran across the hangar bay, blinking the haze of the bright lights out of his eyes as he spotted one of the new skeets towards the center with a quick ready crew gathered around. The Archon had been on sleep cycle when they woke him, only just now getting to the bay as the other two skeets were rising up off the deck and drifting towards the hole in the ceiling overhead.

“Fuel?” he asked, hopping up into the single-seater and throwing his right leg over the pommel that the pilots rode belly down on.

“She’s full,” a tech said, having just undone the resupply line. “So are the weapons.”

Brad didn’t waste time with formalities and nodded his thanks, pulling down the cockpit over top of him. Within thirty seconds he had the aircraft powered up and lifted off the deck, following the two pilots out and seeing that they were hovering nearby over the colony waiting for him.

“Would someone like to tell me where we’re going?” he said over the open Clan Star Fox comm.

“Heading 243, range 4537 kilometers,” Mara’s voice answered back. “Our raider friends are back, so go say hi.”

“Gladly,” Brad said, kicking in his T-shaped skeet’s 3 anti-gravity engines and shooting the fighter straight up into the sky. “Pilots on me. Who do we have here?”

“Ally Laismon, reporting.”

“Ras Vanderjack here.”

“Good,” Brad said, watching his altimeter run up, “I thought they’d stuck me with some newbs. Listen up. Looks like you’re going to get your first taste of real combat, but first we have to get wherever we’re going. That means a high altitude run at high speed, just like we’ve been practicing. Keep a kilometer separation minimum, arrow formation.”

“Copy that,” Ally said, maneuvering her skeet around to drop in on Brad’s left flank as they continued to climb higher where the atmosphere was thinner.

“What are we up against?” Ras asked.

“I don’t know,” Brad said, switching back over to the frequency Mara was on. “Got any info to pass along, boss?”

“We’ve got Canderian troops on the ground, riding out an aerial assault. Reports indicate three, repeat, three raider ships similar to the one that attacked yesterday. They’re bombing the infrastructure and have not yet put troops on the ground…that we can confirm.”

“Bombing with what?”

“Stand by.”

Brad muted the outgoing feed on that comm line while reactivating his current unit’s private comm. “Assume fighter to gunship attack profile. Three bogeys. We’ll improvise the rest when we get there.”

“What are we waiting for,” Ras said, eager to get moving.

“500 more,” Brad replied pithily. After he reached the prerequisite altitude he activated his skeet’s shield generator, which began to produce a second skin around the craft, invisible to the air save for where disturbances occurred. The thin layer of shield matrix began to thicken as more and more power was poured into it, eventually topping off at about 2 inches thick.

The shield matrix didn’t precisely match the dimensions of the skeet. The smooth lines couldn’t be mimicked, and the more faces a shield had the more complex its emitters had to be, which was why most shields were boxy structures. The skeet, however, had to maneuver through atmosphere so a box was out of the question. Instead a nearly similar silhouette of the ship’s hull had been created out of varying geometric pieces that preserved most of the aerodynamics.

The aerofighter was equipped with physical shields, meaning that the energy matrix was formatted to resist matter. Had Brad been outside the ship and tried to touch the hull his hand would have been stopped by an invisible wall just shy of it, with the contact point on the shield turning opaque upon touch as the matrix was disrupted, damaged, and had to recharge. If the physical impact was hard enough the matrix at the impact point would crumble and the object would pass through…with the resulting breach in the shield being ‘sewed up’ by addition energy being deployed from the emitters.

Turn the shield off and the energy matrix dissipated within a second. Turn it back on and a new one would have to be formed from scratch. The types of matrixes used in shields were many and varied, with Star Force only now being able to produce the simplest of ones. Simple as they might be, they were still impressively strong going up against natural phenomena, such as wind in this case.

Brad flipped a switch that activated the prototype components within the shield generator, creating an addition to the standard shield. This one was a simple cone, stretched out in front of the skeet some 48 meters and ending at a tip smaller than the width of a hair. The adjunct matrix quickly filled with energy.

“Good to go,” Ally reported.

“Same here,” Ras added, just as Brad’s skeet confirmed full shield deployment.

“Ground troops report plasma cannons,” Mara’s voice broke back in. “Some big ones.”

Brad reactivated the outgoing portion of that line. “Copy that. We’re getting underway now.”

He shifted it back over to mute, then checked his heading to make sure they were pointed in the right direction. He corrected a few degrees to port, then feathered his propulsive engines.

“Stay with me,” he told his pair of pilots as he accelerated forward with the air-breathing engines kicking him back in his seat enough that his butt hit the rear guard, checking his momentum. His skeet took off in the normal acceleration arc, with the long needle-like shield breaking the wind for him as his speed increased to debilitating levels.

As the friction increased he began to increase altitude again using the gravity drive. Doing so decreased the thickness of the air, reducing drag, but it also reduced the amount of air getting to the engines, decreasing propulsion. When he got high enough that his airspeed began to actually diminish he flipped another switch and two more physical energy fields manifested around the pair of engines, acting like sails to collect and funnel the thin air into the intakes.

The skeet’s speed increased again, rising to a comfortable mach 10. The pressure on the nose cone was within limits and the air feed was nominal, but he didn’t feel like pressing the speed any higher. They’d gone up to mach 11 in testing, but only for a few minutes. He knew the craft could probably take the prolonged duration that this trip would incur, but he didn’t feel that now was the best time to be setting any records. He needed his skeet, and those of his pilots, in working order when they got to target…not to mention for the return trip.

“You guys still with me?”

“A few klicks back,” Ras said. “You’re hard to stay with.”

“I’m done accelerating, so snug up…and remember to stay out of my wake.”

“Yeah, it’s spraying me a bit at 2 kilometers,” Ally reported.

Brad checked his tracking display, seeing that her skeet was off to his left, but more aft than she should have been.

“Go wide and come up, you’re too linear.”

“Easy for you to say, you don’t have to steer,” she said, making small corrections around the insanely large ‘nose’ of the craft that the energy shield had created.

Brad watched as she got her fighter repositioned and Ras caught up from behind, coming in well wide then nudging over to about 1.5 klicks to his right and held position there about 500 meters back, parallel to Ally.

“Looks good, but keep an eye on your trajectory. No time to fall asleep at this speed. Stay with me while I try to get a little more information about our target. Apologies now if I wobble.”

“Not accepted,” Ally rebuked him. “You can multitask.”

Brad smiled, but didn’t let his amusement transfer over the comm. She was quoting him from an earlier conversation. “So noted,” he said, readjusting the comm line to talk to Mara.

9

“Target sighted,” Brad said from his vantage point high above the mining site. After a stiff deceleration run the trio of fighters were descending down to the designated coordinates and had just passed through a thin layer of high clouds, giving them an unobstructed view of the thick forest below. A bit of infrastructure was visible on the horizon, but only after muffled flashes drew Brad’s eyes toward it.

As he watched one of the three bulky ships began to rise up above the tree line, as if in preparation for their attack run.

“They know we’re coming. Stay sharp and dance, let’s see what they’ve got. Ally?”

“Happy to,” she answered, dipping the ‘T’ of her skeet forward and cutting out the anti-grav engines while kicking in the primaries. Her fighter dropped down and zipped ahead of the other two, with Brad swinging right to get some angular separation before he did likewise and followed her down. Ras picked another angle and set up for third in their initial strafing run.

A stuttered stream of green plasma shot out from the ship like a search light, bending this way and that trying to track the fighter’s approach but Ally easily evaded it and fired a pair of light blue plasma squirts back its way before turning sharply and cutting across the treetops to the right and away from the target. Her hits ran square into the side of the yellow/tan ship and were buffeted by a cascading shimmer of energy shields.

Brad saw this and tried to target the same spot on his run, firing off a series of three paired streaks, all of which hit the stable target as it fired back, unable to hit the highly mobile skeets. His first two salvos were absorbed, but the third broke through the shields and kissed the hull, leaving a burn mark but little other damage.

Ras targeted the same spot as well, making more than a dent. Bits of armor burnt off when his four streaks impacted, tearing an obvious scar into the side of the ship before he too went evasive and flew off.

By the time Ally came back around for a second pass the lizard ship began to move up and off to the west, firing ineffectively at the fighters from range as the other two ships came up out of the forest and added their own weapons to the defensive effort. She targeted the first one again, but didn’t have a line on its damaged side. Her shots dissipated off of portions of the shield matrix that were still intact, but draining them of yet more energy as the ship’s generator tried desperately to reform and recharge the portions that had been penetrated.

“They’re running,” Ras said as he finished up his second pass.

“Stay on them, but keep your distance. Those gunners may suck, but up close you’re a bigger target.”

“We know the drill,” Ally answered, swinging her skeet around in a big loop to come back in at the retreating ships who were gradually increasing speed. That acceleration made her loop fall long, so she had to readjust and come up on their aft to approach. All three targeted their defenses that direction and the air filled with green shards of plasma.

Brad swung wide to starboard and came in on their flank, forcing them to give him either an uncontested run or swing one or more of their turrets around to track him. They did the latter, lessening the fire being thrown at Ally. He got a single paired shot off before zooming across their formation a few hundred meters over the tops of their ships and flying off to port while Ally came right up and over them from behind, adding four more plasma streaks into the rearmost ship’s shields.

The three Star Fox pilots kept up this harassing attack for a long time as the enemy ships fled across the surface, to where no one knew, but gradually their shields were wearing down and more and more hull hits were occurring. Meanwhile other skeets were inbound, adjusting toward their heading for a distant intercept, making it appear that unless the lizards got some lucky hits in against the fighters they were doomed.

About five minutes before that intercept occurred with a group of 9 Ninja Monkey skeets coming up from the south, Ras got in a killing strike on the rearmost of the three ships, sending it careening down to crash into the forest when its anti-grav engine took damage.

“Nice work,” Brad congratulated, “but stay sharp. I’ve already took a couple nicks and they dropped my shields by 20%. We can’t withstand a direct hit and their gunners are getting better the longer this fight drags on,” he said, pulling up sharply as another line of green plasma shot out like a scythe across the treetops and passed underneath him. “Concentrate fire on the second ship, but stay evasive.”

“Copy that,” Ally said, delivering another effective run and flashing past the pair of ships, but staying low and shooting the gap between them as the gunners guessed she’d go high like they had been earlier.

Brad noticed the maneuver, and the fact that it worked, so he didn’t criticize, but that was far closer than he wanted them getting and he knew that in prolonged fights like this people usually got sloppy, predictable, or reckless…and she had just showed a bit of recklessness.

He followed his own advice and flew way off to port and ahead of the fleeing ships, then angled in for a run that would force the gunners to split their aim between him coming in from an angle to the front or the other two who were still sniping from the rear arc. One of the turrets on the lead ship tracked his way but a corkscrew approach made him hard to zero in on and he was able to deliver a solid triple hit against the front of the second ship as he passed. The leading plasma globs hit the shields in front, the second set slipped back to the flank and soaked up more shield energy there, then the third set hit pay dirt and melted away some more hull armor as that side of the ship lost its protective energy shell.

“What the…heads up!” Ally shouted as a new contact blurrily appeared on her tracking screen…a big new contact with a weak signal.

By the time Brad had swung around to see it with his own eyes the cruiser-sized ship had already pulled up halfway above the ridgeline it was hiding behind. Its knife-like design lay flat against the ground with small nodules poking up off the top at odd places. It quickly rose up and sky appeared beneath it, making it look like an alien version of a super star destroyer…very flat and long, and equally intimidating.

Bits and pieces of plasma began flying their way from turrets somewhere on the distance ship, leaving a safe cone of approach for the two raiders in the center.

“Break high!” Brad said, pulling up sharply as he took a hit to his port engine. The physical shield covering it ate up most of the plasma, but the little that got through burned off the paint and melted away the outside layer of thin armor, just missing the forward intake vent. A little smoke billowed up from the spot, trapped inside the shield perimeter, and formed a misty haze over that side of the craft as Brad kicked in his anti-grav engines and shot into the sky as fast as he could.

“Report?!”

“Tail damage,” Ally said, following him up. “Nothing critical. Speed intact.”

“No damage,” Ras reported, matching their ascent.

Brad toggled his comm to open Star Force band, which the approaching skeets, Clans, and Canderians could all monitor. “New contact, repeat, new contact. Big ass ship coming up off the deck. The raiders are heading towards it and they’ve got decent anti-air coverage. Assault is problematic. We could really use some orbital bombardment about now if someone could manage it.”

“Our sensors show nothing, Foxes,” one of the Ninja Monkey pilots replied on the same channel, “but we can just make it out visually. What’s it look like from orbit?”

“We’ve got no tracking data up here,” Harrison’s voice responded. “But we do have a limited visual. Confirm coordinates then get clear as spotters. We’ll bring the rain, but there’s no guarantee we’ll hit anything.”

“Thank you,” Brad said, adjusting his flight line to bring him directly over the ship, but at a high enough altitude that he wouldn’t be an easy target. “Ally, Ras…break off and get to the edge of visual range. One take north, the other south. We need to keep this guy boxed in so we can direct the gunners.”

“I’ll take north,” Ras offered, pulling away from their tiny formation.

“Careful, Lead,” Ally warned, heading the south position.

“Mara, I’m gonna get you as close as I can. Be ready to target my position at 45 seconds post ping.”

“We’re set here,” the Archon replied.

“Ninja Monkeys, stay clear on the west edge. We’ve got to keep a line of sight on the ship at all times because our sensors aren’t worth crap against these guys.”

“We’ve got the backdoor covered.”

“I’ll take the east side after this run,” he said, rolling his skeet upside down so he could look at the pan-like ship coming up beneath him. It was an elongated hexagon with the shortest two sides being front and aft, giving it a stretched out look. He could see the two raiders just now reaching the ship and settling into grooves on the upper surface. A shimmer of shields flashed across the east side, indicating to Brad that they’d left those down for the ships to come in under and now they were raising them back up. He didn’t know if they were physical-resistant shields or energy-resistant shields, but a ship hitting either would damage the matrix, even though a true energy shield would allow objects to move through and still remain intact.

Either way, his fighter’s plasma weapons would affect both types of shielding. Because the plasma was made of atoms it would be stopped by physical shields and pass through energy shields…but because the atoms were ionized it would also be repelled by the energy shields, making it both a good multipurpose weapon as well as an easy one to defend against. The really potent physical weapons would pass through energy-resistant shields like they weren’t even there, and vice versa. Lasers would pass right through the physical shields that the skeets were using, given that the photons were so small they’d make it through the matrix ‘net’ that was designed to stop large, heavy atoms, such as the oxygen ones that the skeet’s plasma was made of.

Energy-resistant shields were more difficult to construct, which was why Star Force didn’t currently have any. According to the V’kit’no’sat database most races didn’t have energy-resistant shields because the matrix required was too complex for them to create. Some limited energy shields, like a simple magnetic field, were possible, but a comprehensive energy-resistant shield was quite a ways up the technological ladder and many rungs ahead of Star Force at the moment.

A magnetic shield would repel plasma and other charged particles, but allow all other matter to pass through as if there was no shield at all, which was yet one more reason why plasma was easy to defend against. It could also ward off electrical attacks, but light and other forms of energy were unaffected, making its defensive usefulness one dimensional.

Brad didn’t know how advanced the lizards were, but if they did have energy-resistant shields it wouldn’t do them much good. The plasma would pound them heavily, but since Star Force didn’t use much in the way of energy-based weapons nowadays only the physical shields were going to come into play…and in about 60 seconds they were going to find out if that ship was as tough as it looked.

Brad looked ‘up’ at the ship below his skeet, judging that he was approximately over top of it, and leveled his hand above the all important button on his control board. He flipped his skeet back right side up and began making a tight 180 degree U-turn, at the end of which he jammed down the button and kicked in his engines at maximum speed.

“Sensor ping,” one of the Canderians reported. “We have the coordinates.”

“Send them over,” Harrison said, watching the holographic map of the planet tag the location where the mystery ship was. Their orbital sensors still couldn’t detect a thing, but the visuals he was getting of it from high above were able to make out the yellowish knife-like shape set against the dark green forest. He wasn’t sure how accurate their bombardment would be, and he hoped their pilots would keep their distance.

In the Saber colony control center the Archons on station received the coordinates relayed from the Canderians and remotely targeted their warships in low orbit that happened to be above that portion of the planet. The Sabers had two in position, as well as a third borrowed from 1st fleet. Two other Clan warships were also nearby and would come within range shortly, but the Sabers had wisely been using their engines to align for optimum orbital positioning while the other Clans hadn’t been so savvy.

The 1st fleet corvette took aim as it orbited by, making for a difficult, but not impossible shot. The two Saber ships, however, had been upgraded with anti-grav drives sufficient to ‘float’ their ships above the surface of the planet. One was a destroyer, the other a light frigate, and Paul had specifically had the newer designs incorporate the technology for just this purpose.

Having negated most of their orbital speed by now, the two Saber warships drifted low, just above the top of the atmosphere as the first rail gun slug fell at an angle past them from the 1st fleet corvette. It was followed by a steady stream of slugs, with about 5-second intervals, that pummeled the area tagged as the lizard ship’s location as the two Saber ships joined in with their heavier rail guns.

More accurate due to the closer range and lack of lateral orbital speed, 62% of the slugs they delivered to target impacted the wide profile of the lizard ship, while the narrow edge stared at the surrounding and waiting fighters, giving the warships the best possible attack profile. Their rail gun slugs, each a massive chunk of iron mixed with other elements and blunted to apply maximum concussive force, hit the top of the ship and sparkled against the shields, though no one was in a good position to observe the spectacle.

The metal smashed against the physical shields and deformed, breaking through layer after layer of shield matrix as the cylindrical slug of metal mushed into a glob and bled off its kinetic energy, spraying glowing shards as the impact friction heated the pieces past the melting point. They resolidified in mid air and rained down on the forest or other parts of the shield while the main glob rebounded up into the air like sleet hitting and bouncing off of frozen ground.

As impressive as the lizards’ shields were, they couldn’t stand up against much of that punishment, and after the first few dozen impacts the ship began to move forward on a gentle rise up towards orbit, making it damn hard to track.

“Target drifting south,” Brad reported. “And gaining altitude. Looks like it’s coming up to play,” he said as one of the slugs got through the shields and poked a tiny hole in the upper hull.

“Shield penetration,” one of the Ninja Monkeys reported as they began to fly alongside the ship at extreme range. “Mark our position at approximately 40 km. Foxes, give them a range and they can use us as targeting brackets.”

“Best guess,” Brad said, trying to size up the distance mixed with the intermittent sensor bounces from the large ship, “25 kilometers.” He set his sensor ping to automatic, with it sounding off every 1.5 seconds.

“28 kilometers,” Ras added, keeping pace from behind as the cruiser slipped south.

“21 kilometers,” Ally reported.

“Back off a bit,” Brad said over his group’s individual comm. “I know it’s almost impossible to hit a fighter from orbit, but don’t take the chance. Try and stay at least 25 out.”

“I can’t fly backwards,” Ally pointed out, “so I’m having to zigzag to maintain visual contact.”

“Zigzag faster,” Brad suggested as a few more rail gun slugs made it through the shields, all with diminished momentum which negated their destructive power. Poke enough holes, he knew, and the entire shield matrix would collapse, but he didn’t figure they were anywhere close to that point yet.

“Better do what you can now,” he suggest over open comm. “We’re not going to be able to stay with them much longer. They’re definitely headed for space.”

10

“Do we still have a visual lock?” Harrison asked.

“Yes,” one of the Canderians said, referencing the feeds coming from the warships.

“Coordinate all the feeds and plot their course as best you can.”

“Yes, Archon.”

Harrison looked at the holographic display and where their warships were positioned around orbit. There were a few pairs here and there, but for the most part they were spread out. Soon a probability cone arose, coming up from the planet and continually shrinking as position data was updated.

He picked three points around that cone higher up in orbit and designated them as rendezvous points for his other warships while the three currently engaged poured more and more rail gun slugs down on the target as it was now just escaping the atmosphere.

“Stay with it,” he said into his earpiece.

In response the Saber destroyer and light frigate began moving up and back as they kept up distant fire on the now quickly moving target. Most of their rail gun slugs were missing, given that the lizard ship had tipped upward, no longer offering its wide profile as a target. Before long it would be upon the two Saber ships, either to engage or blow past them. Harrison knew they had to keep a ship on its heels at all times else they’d lose the contact since they couldn’t follow it on sensors.

The 1st fleet corvette was already passing by, nearly out of position as it rounded the planet in orbit, but several other ships were coming into range, both Saber and otherwise, closing in a very loose net, one that Harrison wasn’t sure would be able to hold.

He saw the speed indicator for the enemy ship jump up and realized that they were indeed making a run for it, not even attempting to settle into an orbit but going straight up and cutting across the orbital tracks directly…which meant many of their ships would not be in a position to follow.

“Anyone who can chase get going,” Harrison announced to the room.

“We’ve got them if you can keep eyes on them a little longer,” San said from his terminal as he ordered his Clan fleet to intercept as a group from their position orbiting the moon of Dxun. They weren’t right next door, but rather at a 58 degree angle off the projected flight path of the target and with enough altitude to cover the distance for a possible intercept.

“We’ve got eyes,” Mara said as some of the Star Fox ships in higher orbits began moving into position to form a visual relay, some of which were on a direct line with the target and accelerating out from the planet as well so as to match speeds. “We’re going to take a few potshots on the way, then they’re all yours, Monkeys.”

On the holographic display Harrison saw one of the 1st fleet missile ships launch a long range salvo ahead of the target, with the missiles flying almost the completely opposite direction. This wasn’t a mistake on its part, but rather the same tactic the outer warships were using to set up an intercept. The target was now moving so fast that it would be almost impossible to hit head on so the missiles had to accelerate in the same direction to reduce relative speeds in order to have a chance of contact.

The hologram showed the missile positions, but there was still only an indeterminate dot where the visual recorders and some mathematical guesswork were putting it. Harrison also knew that the missiles fired had no lock on target, which meant they were being guided by controllers back down on the planet. It wasn’t a very favorable circumstance, but at the moment it was all they had as the target zipped by the position of the 1st fleet warship and continued to head out away from the planet.

“Bring up the missile telemetry,” Harrison told the Canderians, with a scattering of tiny camera images popping up next to the hologram. Nothing was visible except stars and Dxun on the far left, meaning the missiles were still out ahead of the target. A few moments later the missile images turned as a group to the right and a small, flat object appeared in the corner of the screen, growing larger by the second.

“There it is,” Harrison whispered, watching the warheads close fast. He knew the controllers were watching the same feeds and flying the missiles in manually, but his interest was getting a good look at the ship. So far all they’d gotten up here was fuzzy, long range images.

When the knife-like ship stretched from one edge of the screen to the other it began to rotate around, exposing its flat lower surface to the missiles as a shower of green particles manifested at several points on the hull and flew out towards the missiles. At first nothing happened, but then the missiles’ visual feeds began cutting out one by one until only 3 of the 36 were left. Harrison got a good, up close view of the ship’s hull as they rammed into the target and detonated, but whatever damage they did or didn’t do he couldn’t know, since their cameras had also been destroyed on impact.

The run up to impact did tell him one important thing…there were dozens of the smaller ships attached to the hull of what must have been some form of carrier/base.

Another small view of the ship appeared in the holographic map of planetary orbit, this one coming from a Star Fox warship that was accelerating hard towards an intercept. Watching the live video and the tracking points on the map Harrison suddenly realized that the target was faster than their ships and the cruiser in question wasn’t going to be able to catch up.

Coming to that same conclusion the Star Fox warship launched a series of rail gun slugs from its forward arc, cutting all plasma engines to increase accuracy and hoping for a lucky hit. It fired off 8 rounds before giving up and watched the little dots on the map fly across the distance between itself and the ghost ship.

Another Star Fox ship, this one a destroyer, was nearly matching the target’s acceleration, coming in at a similar angle to the cruiser but farther up the orbital ladder. Its camera view soon became the dominant one in the Canderian command center and showed a decent image of two of the rail gun slugs hitting the target and splattering against its shields.

For a brief moment the disruption in the energy matrix was so intense that the ship popped up on sensor scans, giving them a fixed point to begin reworking their course plotting from before it disappeared again as the shield matrix settled back down and began replenishing the damaged areas with additional power from the generator.

“Good hit,” Anders commented. “Keep it up and maybe the Ninja Monkeys can put it down.”

Harrison glanced at the upper edge of the holographic map. “You got the back door covered?”

“Working on it,” Anders said, having his fleet spread out around high orbit, but with at least a few ships within possible intercept range an hour or two out if they could maintain visual contact that long.

As the range closed between the target and the destroyer the Clan warship began shooting off rail gun slugs and missiles with no return fire coming from the enemy until the missiles got in close and were hit by scatter fire. Most of them were knocked out, but half of the rail gun slugs hit the target, whacking large holes in its shield matrix. As the range shrank down even further the destroyer opened fire with its own plasma cannons, seeing the light blue streaks blur and fade out before impact.

The Star Fox pilots kept firing anyway, wanting to get a hit in at extreme range but it was the lizards’ ship that got there first. A green sphere of plasma shot off from the ship and crossed laterally over to the box-like destroyer and splashed against its shields. The bolt of plasma had dissipated significantly before impact, but it still ate up more than half the shield strength on point of impact…which was large, given the water balloon-like splash effect.

Seeming to suggest that the shot was merely a test of range, the enemy cruiser fired several more bolts in sequence, all but one of which hit the destroyer. The third in the continuous salvo penetrated the shields and kissed the Herculium hull…then the others ripped/melted it apart one after another.

The destroyer twisted around, trying to spread out the hull damage as well as to bring intact portions of the shield into play. The tactic only worked as a delaying measure, for the unending stream of plasma bolts did not relent. What was left of the shield matrix completely collapsed, exposing all of the destroyer’s armored hull to the incoming plasma. Once it ate through the protective plates it cored the ship, hollowing out the interior through a series of explosions to leave a more or less intact shell that began to fall behind as its engines were no longer existent.

The lizards didn’t let up and continued to pound the remains until it fell out of range, then continued on out of the micro-system as the pack-like Ninja Monkey fleet loomed ever closer out ahead, fighting for speed so the target wouldn’t zip right by them.

Instead it altered course to port, causing the Clan ships to have to redeploy and scatter their formation. First contact was made by four corvettes that had superior speed to the enemy cruiser and were able to readjust quicker to the new heading. One was killed on approach by the green plasma orbs, but the other three were able to get inside their own plasma range and fired off small streaks into the enemy’s shields.

A second corvette was destroyed before a destroyer joined the party, firing at range with its rail gun on an approach that the corvettes deliberately avoided so as to allow the support fire. As the third corvette met its death one of the rail gun slugs got through the shields and hit the hull, doing moderate damage given that part of the kinetic energy had already been bled off. None the less, the surviving corvette noted the position of the shield impact and poured plasma into the wound.

The destructive ‘raindrop’ fell into the crater on the hull and melted into it, carving it a bit deeper and smoothing out some of the narrow edges. A second drop fell nearby and cut another divot into the hull before the last corvette was killed, but by then two more ships had come within rail gun range and were spitting metallic shards at the enemy, who once again altered course, throwing off their aim.

The closer destroyer fell in behind the ship and accelerated for all it was worth, inching up from behind and firing away with its larger plasma cannons. The target, it seemed, didn’t have a large battery capable of covering the aft arc, though more scattershot appeared, most of which dissipated before it even got to the destroyer’s shields.

One blue streak after another shot out at the lizard cruiser, most of which hit the aft shields but were too dissipated to do much damage. The destroyer kept draining what energy out of them it could while a few more lucky rail gun slugs hit the target, all but one of which deflected off the shields.

The one struck the weakened area where the corvette’s plasma had hit the hull. The matrix covering it was still replenishing and very, very thin. The slug punched through it like it wasn’t even there and delivered the first solid strike against the enemy, breaking through the armored coating and penetrating into the interior of the ship with a gush of atmosphere flying back out before internal bulkheads sealed off the breached areas.

As if stung by a bee, the cruiser killed its forward thrust and wheeled about, heading directly for the larger Ninja Monkey ships shooting at it from outside its plasma range. It closed the gap quickly, flying in a curved trajectory that no Star Force ship could match, throwing off the rail gun targeting and keeping any more from hitting before it got within plasma range of the ambushing ships and leveled off, unleashing a torrent from multiple cannons spaced out across the bottom face of the hull, which it deliberately tilted towards the Ninja Monkey gunners.

Normally that would have been a fatal mistake, giving the rail guns such a wide target, but for the cruiser it gave four plasma cannon turrets lines of fire and the enemy ship began savaging the Star Force warships. Their thin shields held for mere seconds, maybe a salvo or two if they were spaced out, then the green plasma began eating at their hulls as they fired desperately in return, scattering in multiple directions but not moving fast enough to avoid the speed of the plasma, which was at least twice that of their own cannons.

The Ninja Monkeys did make them pay for the bold attack, getting several plasma salvos of their own off, as well as some close in rail gun shots before those batteries were destroyed. The bottom half of the cruiser took extensive damage, but most of the docked raider ships were on the top half and safe from the attack.

The smaller and faster Clan ships were able to flank the cruiser, taking damage as they went. Two corvettes began attacking at the knife edge of the ship while a frigate crossed over and targeted the top side…only to be hit by the large cannons in place there, getting off just three plasma shots before being destroyed. The dorsal shields held on the cruiser, but the rim damage the corvettes were inflicting began to add up and a few got through weakened shields enough to destabilize the ventral areas enough that three sections of the shield cover on the cruiser’s bottom half completely went down, though there were few Ninja Monkey ships remaining to exploit that weakness.

The corvettes blasted away at the rim at point blank range, trying to stay out of the firing arcs of the main cannons until the bigger ship twisted about faster than they could adjust. They took the brunt of the plasma attacks at their most concentrated and lethal efficiency, with the explosive results shredding the smaller ships. Unlike the others at range, their Herculium armor didn’t hold up to the explosive destruction, allowing the small warships to pop like piñatas when the massive amount of plasma ate through to the densely packed interior of the unmanned warships.

Back in the Canderian command center the expressions on the Archons’ faces were bleak. The enemy ship had just torn through 13 of their own and was still intact and heading out away from the planet…a fact which they could now verify, given that the target had begun to show up on sensor scans during the battle.

“Anders,” Harrison said after a long moment of silence. “Keep a ship close so we can track it.”

“I’ve got three on the way,” he said, looking at the marker on the hologram as it continued to accelerate away from the planet.

“We’ll need an escort on the jumpline from Alpha Centauri to protect the next jumpship,” Mara pointed out.

“3 weeks?” Jaime asked.

“And then at least 8 more before we can get any reinforcements,” Harrison said, rubbing his jaw thoughtfully. “Priority defense should go to the jumpships, then shipyards. If they go in atmosphere we can organize a defense on the ground, but we can’t let our ships get spread out again. Only a fleet action is going to be able to stand up against that.”

“Where do you suppose they’re heading?” Raines asked, still watching the hologram.

Harrison glanced at the Arc Tribune, but Anders answered him first.

“How many more of them are out there, you mean? If they’re running back to their buddies we’ll find them…unless they can get that hull damage patched up to evade our sensors.”

“You think it was the armor?” Jaime asked. “Not some countermeasure?”

“The ship is reading like a corvette, so I’d say we’re just picking up the surface damage, which means something is still shielding the rest of the hull, so my money’s on the armor.”

“Good point,” Harrison granted. “Calculate their current track. Let’s see how coy they’re playing this.”

The Canderians punched up the navigation program with ease and had a lazy arc around the system’s central star marked on the now system-wide hologram…no planets or moons intersected it, nor did any even come close.

“So much for that,” Mara commented.

“Guess we have to wait and see,” Anders said, watching the icons for his ship trail the enemy, keeping it within their sensor range but well outside of weapons. At the moment they didn’t want to provoke another attack, just follow and observe.

Four days later those three ships did come under attack, but not from the ship they were trailing. Two more enemy cruisers, sensor ghosts as far as telemetry was concerned, jumped the leading ship and destroyed it before the controllers knew what was happening, thanks to the signal lag of being so far out from the planet. The other two were far enough back that they were able to go evasive, one flying off at a 90 degree angle to their flight path while the other one accelerated hard forward, increasing speed and blowing by the two new contacts. Given that the ship was a frigate its maneuvering speed was greater and it was able to outrun its pursuit, drawing them away from the larger destroyer escaping off to the side.

The frigate amassed enough speed to catch up to and overshoot the damaged cruiser, passing far ahead of it before a mass of contacts lit up its sensor screen.  The just updated combat protocols in the frigate automatically returned fire before the sensor telemetry even made it back to Corneria, targeting the incoming fighters with high powered lachar cupolas…a combination laser and charged particle weapon that fired at light speed, but they didn’t pack enough punch to take one out with a single hit so the frigate was quickly overwhelmed and picked to death by the fighters’ small plasma cannons.

The more distant destroyer succeeded in escaping, but within two hours of running from the enemy its signal winked out, having been caught and destroyed by one of the carrier/bases before it could even begin its slingshot trajectory around the sun to return to Corneria.

Upon a detailed review of the frigate’s sensors and visuals, transmitted back live and bounced around the system via relays, the source of the fighters was located and then magnified as much as possible, resolving into a blurry image calculated to be more than 15 kilometers long and at least 3 kilometers wide. Indistinct as it was, the brief visual made one fact abundantly clear.

 The enemy had a jumpship insystem.

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