Chapter One

Private Quarters, Orbital Command Tether, Hayden’s World

Alexi Petronov rolled over in the low gravity bed, enjoying the luxury that had once been part of his every day at the office but now, thanks to the new gravity drives, was really only to be found on the orbital tethers. He knew it was bad for him, but low gravity was like any other addiction, it was insidious, it dug in deep beneath your defenses, and it would only let go when he was pried from its cold dead hands.

Like some people I know, He thought, smiling softly at the woman sleeping beside him.

His companion was none other than hero of the Hayden war, Sorilla Aida. The woman beside him barely resemble the hardened soldier he’d met a little over a year earlier. She almost, almost mind you, looked soft and peaceful. Given her penchant for an exercise routine that made his own spacer designed one look soft, not even in sleep would she ever look soft, but he imagined sometimes that he could see the woman she might have been peeking out from behind the soldier she’s chosen to be.

He couldn’t quite imagine her as anything else, however, she was one of those people who just found where they were supposed to be.

He slowly got dressed, knowing that she was almost certainly awake and watching him through the implants the military had put into her. You didn’t sneak up on a special forces soldier to begin with, but once the military were finished jacking them up with the latest technology they were like ghosts in the common systems that made up every human environment that existed in the modern world.

“I’m going to check on my Socrates,” He said softly, low enough not to bother her if she was sleeping. “Do you want anything?”

She smiled lazily, stretching and letting the blanket remain were it was as her breasts came into view. “I think you gave me more than enough last night.”

Alexi smirked slightly, amused by her playing more than anything. He’d spent his life on freighters and science ships, and anyone who thought that researchers were less likely to lascivious and raunchy behavior than soldiers or long shore men had never been on a research ship fifty lightyears from Earth. He’d seen it all, and while the young Major… technically Captain, but while she was stationed on black Navy property she was granted a ‘promotion’ to avoid any confusion with the Captain of the facility.

“Food perhaps? He offered lightly, “checking on the Socrates should not take too long.”

“Sure. Steak.” She said, “Tell Reed it’s for me, he’ll get you the real deal.”

Alexi winced, just slightly, but could tell by the mischief in her eyes that she had been watching for it and had gotten exactly what she wanted from the jab.

Alexi again wondered at the differences between them, there were certainly enough of them, yet even the most contentious of them seemed nothing more than a joke to her and then to him as well.

He was a Neo-Vegan, he ate nothing that had been part of a living being. His vegetables were cloned materials as was his meat, though even he admitted that cloning vegetables honestly seemed like a bit of a moot point. He hadn’t become a Neo-Vegan intentionally, it had been more by default. Years in deep space, eating vat grown meat and flash grown vegetables, had been his life. One day he just woke up and realized that he was one of those bizarre people you normally saw preaching love and peace when the media needed to fill their quotient of crazy people.

The Major, well, she was anything but. She not only ate real meat, she was known to track it down while it was still mobile and march it back to her plate at gun point.

Sometimes he wondered why they’d ever gotten together, but then it wasn’t really that confusing when he thought about it.

First there was the attraction.

The Major was not, and probably never would have been, a beauty by most popular standards. She was too muscled, for one. While not muscle bound, there was likely an unhealthily low percentage of body fat on her to be certain. Her face was slightly softer, but she still had a hard edge that might almost be aristocratic if not for the way she held herself.

No soft aristo had ever walked like a deadly predator on the hunt, and even if they had they couldn’t have matched the thoughtless ease by which she did so.

Beautiful, pretty, cute. These were words that simply didn’t apply in any shape or form to Sorilla Aida. She was striking, she was unforgettable, and she was terrifying. Those were words that applied just fine to the Major.

“I’ll see if they’ve brought any upstairs,” He said finally as she opened her eyes and looked at him directly.

She had her interface on, but not the night vision, he could tell by the dim green glow that gave her an alien, unearthly look.

“You know that creeps me out,” He told her chidingly. “Why do you have to use those in here?”

“Practice.” She answered, not for the first time. “The same reason we both exercise every day when we get up. Instinct makes it easier, keeps us sharp.”

He sighed, “You’ve not been on a mission since…”

Sorilla’s eyes returned to their customary chocolate brown and she looked away, making him kick himself even though it was both true and something she needed to talk about.

After her last mission, when she got back to the world and learned the fate… or, rather, not learned the fate of Task Force Valkyrie, Sorilla had shut down for a time. She’d earned her last fast track promotion then, having accomplished the mission assigned her, but so far hadn’t shown any inclination to return to the field.

He knew that Psyche were considering discharging her from the Special Forces, possibly from the military. An eightball release wouldn’t do her any good, however, and he wasn’t the only friend she had who knew it.

Not that he blamed her, not really. The loss of Task Force Valkyre had been a communal shock to the psyche of ever serving spacer in the Solarian Corps. The civilians didn’t really get it, but that was because they hadn’t been told the truth. Most people thought that the Task Force had gone out in a massive battle against the enemy, destroying both forces. Alexi was one of very few people outside the upper echelon of the Solarian military and joint nation administrations who knew that simply wasn’t true.

There was no evidence of a battle. No debris, no wreckage, not even any beacons aside from the last message sent by Valkyre. That might have been explained by the enemy Gravity Valve technology, except that there were no wrecks of the alien ships either. And Alexi knew well that had they survived they would not have stopped their advance on Hayden and, beyond, to Earth. That they hadn’t, combined with the enigmatic message from Valkyrie, was evidence enough that somehow the Admiral had accomplished her final mission.

How she’d pulled that off was now possibly the greatest ghost story of all time, and unless something drastically changed, he had no doubt that Admiral Brooke and her people would be legends long after every other living person of the day were wiped from memory.

If nothing else, He thought with a certain vicious satisfaction, I bet the Alliance speaks her name to scare children and rookie spacers alike for the next few centuries.

He walked over to the viewing port, a large arching window that looked out over the curve of Hayden’s World and at the alien starship that floating beyond. Tensions with the alien Alliance were still strong, but Hayden was still the contact point for them and the Solarian administration. Most Haydenites weren’t exactly pleased with having an alien ship over their heads, like some floating sword of damoclese, but at least it wasn’t one of the Ghoulie ships.

Not that anyone would let one of those bastards in range of a planet, not after seeing what they could do to one.

Alexi returned his focus to the woman in his head, the woman who was still watching him with glowing eyes. He could only guess what she was seeing, her implant suite was still one of the most advanced in current use, to his knowledge at least. With access to military, police, and civilian databases she could pick up body language queues that were just short of true telepathy.

It made people shy away from her and, he suspected, she both knew and intentionally used it to give people a push.

“You know me better than most, love,” She told him, a crooked smile on her lips. “If someone can’t handle what I can do, what I am, then I don’t need them around.”

Alex snorted, shaking his head, “Perhaps. However, I suspect that you do it simple because you don’t want anyone close right now. Otherwise, why have you not gone home to see your family?”

“My Dad knows.” She said simply, “He understands. I don’t need to be trying to explain it to anyone else. Besides, I haven’t scared you away, have I?”

“No, but you only have me part time. I still have my Socrates to tend to,” Alexi answered, “Sometimes I think that I am merely a… bad habit you picked up.”

Her expression… well, softened was the wrong word, but became less hard he supposed.

“Alexi…”

He held up a hand forestalling whatever she was about to say, “It is fine, you are not a woman like any other I have met. That is a good thing, Sorilla. Do not doubt that.”

He finished getting dressed as she watched, pausing when he was done, “The Socrates warps space for Earth tonight. There is room for a passenger.”

He tilted his head, not expecting a response and not getting one, then shrugged, “Let it be a surprise, then.”

Sorilla watched him go, then fell back onto the low gravity bed to stare at the ceiling.

*****

The small ship slowed at a nearly unreal speed, it’s warping of space and time making a fool of relativity as it came to a stop relative to the orbital tether station over Hayden. Docking took a few minutes, and so by the time the first man crossed the threshold of the ship and stepped onto the station, a small gathering was waiting for him.

“Ambassador, it’s an honor to have you back on my station,” The Commander, Gil Hayden said with a warm smile.

The Ambassador returned the smile, and they exchanged pleasantries as they walked deeper into the station. Neither noticed that a small group remained behind, waiting for a second man to appear from the ship.

“Admiral,” He was greeted softly.

“Not here, let’s go to a secure room.”

Nods were exchanged all around and the second group too made its way deeper into the station, taking a different path and heading right to the core of the counterweight station itself. They passed three security checks, each more intrusive than the last, and finally came to a stop in a dingy room deep in the bowels of the station.

“Admiral Ruger,” A man nodded from behind a desk, “We’ve been waiting for your report.”

Mathew Ruger took a moment, looking around the room, and then curtly nodded in return, “It’s good to be back in human controlled space.”

*****

“Ambassador, please take a seat.” Gil Hayden said, nodding to the free space at the large conference table.

They were in one of the standard gravity sections of the station, using a room with a large panorama of Hayden’s orbital space and the curve of the planet itself was clearly visible beyond the thick glass. The Ambassador nodded to those around the table as he took his seat.

“It’s good to see some new human faces,” He admitted with a bit of a wry smile. “You get used to the oddity of the Alliance species, but coming back is like a breath of air you didn’t know you were missing.”

“I’m sure, Ambassador.” A man smiled, mostly politely, “We’re here for your report, since it seems unlikely that you’ll have time to head back to Earth space.”

“Right,” Ambassador Keane nodded, unsurprised.

He’d known well that his new assignment was likely to be a long term one, with years spent away from his home. That felt more like an adventure when he’d accepted it, but he wasn’t one to complain.

“Well, first thing,” He said, “And this is all covered by my written report, is the political structure of the ‘Alliance’. By our standards, they’re really something of as Commonwealth, centered around a formerly imperial species that we’ve not yet directly contacted.”

“How many species are there in the Commonwealth?”

“A hundred and nineteen, as best I can determine,” Keane answered, “spread over fourteen hundred lightyears. We’re located near one of their expanding frontiers and, as we’d guessed, we control several key stars that are blocking their movement into the Orion Arm of the Galaxy.”

“Hayden being the primary,” Gil Hayden said sourly.

“That’s correct, Sir.”

“You said that we haven’t encountered the main species of this commonwealth?” Another man asked.

“That’s right,” Keane nodded, “They’re known as the SturmGav, and a few hundred years ago they were pretty prolific and expansionist. They carved out a significant empire, across almost a thousand light years.”

“What stopped them?”

“In a word?” Keane shrugged, “The Alphas. They call them the Ros’El, incidentally. The Sturm and the Ros butted heads for a few decades, and then it all blew open into full fledged warfare about three hundred years ago. One of the reasons the Commonwealth is expanding right now is because of the sheer devastation of that war, between the two, entire star systems were rendered not only barren of life but utterly uninhabitable by any means available to the Alliance.”

“And now they’re working together?”

“Time heals all wounds,” Keane said, “That, and I suspect that the Alliance likes to keep the Ros where they can see them.”

Several of the assembled people snorted.

“From a long goddamned way off too, I’ll bet.” Another man added.

“Essentially, yes.” Keane said, “There’s little love lost there, but the Ros are too active to ignore, too powerful to destroy, and too useful not to make some kind of use of. That said, one thing I was able to find out, it’s highly unusual for the Ros to be assigned any kind of border work. The Parithalians in particular were deeply puzzled and disturbed by the fact that the Alliance had authorized the Ros to expand along the borders.”

“Excuse me, the Parithalians are who?”

“Sorry, the Pari are a long limbed species that are descended from avian stock, best I could tell. They’re the Deltas by our classification. They originally opened communications with Earth, after the Valkyrie incident, but we didn’t have the translators then to put a proper name to them.” Keane said. “Noted shiphandlers in the Alliance, they manage the largest chunk of the Alliance Fleet on our side of things.”

“Gave our squadrons all kinds of hell during the war,” A Navy Commodore added, “they know their way around a ship, that’s for sure.”

“Most of the species I was able to speak with were of the same opinion,” Keane pointed out, “There was some word of an investigation into their border corporations, attempting to determine who authorized the Ros to open up new territory.”

“So that’s their official stance then?” Gil asked, somewhat sourly, “It was a rogue operation?”

“No,” Keane said, “They’re clear on that, it was a fully authorized expansion, they just don’t know by who or why. Not entirely unusual, apparently, even with FTL communications the Alliance is too large to maintain easily checked records. Once they file with the central authority, it can take months or years to access the information again.”

*****

“Well Admiral?”

Ruger looked around the room, a windowless hole filled with more people than the scrubbers were designed to handle. That probably explained the smell, but there wasn’t much he could say or do about that. He was the least senior man in the room.

“The Alliance is a fractured government, Sir,” Ruger said, “Most similar to a funhouse mirror of the British Empire after it broke up. In many ways it’s an operating commonwealth, but there are undercurrents of disaffection with the Alliance and the central authority.”

“Good, we can use that.” The man at the head of the table said, “How much intel were you able to gather on the closest Alliance worlds?”

“A fair amount, nothing classified, of course.” Ruger said, “We haven’t had time to infiltrate any sort of Humint, or its equivalent.”

“What about intercepts?” A reedy looking man leaned forward, “specifically, were you able to find out why we never detected any sign of this culture on long range scans of the sky? SETI and other groups have been looking for over a century…”

“They’ve been looking for electromagnetic signals more than anything else,” Ruger answered, “Signals that the Alliance doesn’t broadcast. They communicate using gravity based devices or hard line and tight beam transmitters. Like ourselves, the Alliance probably only transmitted coherent signals into space for a few decades before they stopped wasting energy that way. SETI was doomed from the start, what they were looking for didn’t exist.”

“That figures.”

“Did you detect the signal?”

The room went silent as everyone looked back to the head of the table and Ruger stiffened before shaking his head.

“No sir.”

“So, they don’t have an operating system within several dozen lightyears…”

“More like several hundred,” Ruger offered, “I don’t believe that the Ros have a time warp system at all.”

“Well, that’s something I suppose.”

“Yes sir.” Ruger said, “If we can detect the warp in spacetime caused by Aeon, however, you can bet that they can. Until we know more, I do not believe it safe to reopen the facility.”

“Agreed.” The man at the head of the table said, “You’ll need to go back with the next Ambassadorial mission.”

Ruger nodded, “I Understand Sir. Do I have any secondary orders?”

“Yes, look for anything we can do to keep the Alliance distracted. Don’t start anything, certainly nothing that can be traced back to us, but the governments back home want options on the table if these aliens start looking in our direction again.”

Ruger frowned, considering, “That may not be too difficult.”

“Explain.”

“The Alliance always seems to have a few scores of border disputes, planets in revolt, that sort of thing,” Ruger said, “nothing quite on the scale of our recent problems, but certainly large enough to pull resources away from other areas.”

“Those sorts of things can usually be… expanded, with the right encouragement.” An Army general who had been quiet to this point said.

“As long as we don’t get ourselves embroiled in any of that,” The man in the suit growled, “We don’t have the resources to throw down that pit right now, even if some of our defense firms would love to try.”

“Unlike the aliens, none of our worlds have different species,” The General said calmly, “or significantly different cultures. We may have that problem in the future, but it’ll be a long damn time before Hayden or another of our colonies is in open revolt.”

The men around the table murmured for a bit, but were in general agreement on that at least.

Ruger nodded, “I understand. In that case, I’d like to request a specialist to consult with, someone who is more familiar with those sorts of operations.”

“Do you have anyone in mind?”

Ruger shook his head.

“Major Aida.” The General spoke up.

“That name is familiar,” The suit frowned, obviously scouring his brain for why that was so.

“She’s the Mustang who brought in the Alien portal ship at the end of the war,” The General said, “she also has more combat experience, face to face, with the aliens than anyone. She’s Special Forces, an insurgency trainer and cultural expert. She’s someone you can drop behind enemy lines with nothing but the clothes on her back and by the time a year is out the whole country is on its knees in the middle of a civil war. I’m not exaggerating, she did exactly that once.”

“That sounds… terrifying,” Ruger admitted, more than a little discomforted by the notion of one person pulling that off, “but also exactly what we need. How long will it take to get her from Earth?”

“You can have her today,” The General scowled, “She’s on the station.”

Chapter Two

Living on a tether counterweight had a lot of things going for it, Sorilla decided as she wrapped up her work out. You could sleep, and do other things, in low gravity but when it came time to sweat for other reasons there was always the upper levels of the tether, where gravity could hit as high as one point five of Earth normal.

She stepped off the track and walked over to where her towel was hanging, briskly patting herself down. She liked to think of herself as reasonably self aware, so she knew that her friends and superiors were worried about her. She even knew why, and didn’t disagree with them really, there was something wrong in her head.

Sorilla didn’t really know if she wanted if she wanted to fix it. She didn’t know if she wanted to go back out there again, to lose more people. She barely knew most of the people she should have died alongside, and that felt obscene to her. Too many dead, too many anonymous faces and faceless names in her dreams.

Too many failures.

Sorilla tossed the towel into a hamper and pulled a shirt on over her head, she didn’t know what she was going to do and it was possibly the first time in her life she’d felt so lost. Her earliest memories were looking for her father to come home in his uniform and swearing she was going to grow up just like him.

Now, after everything that had happened she felt… well, lost.

It wasn’t a feeling that she was used to.

She’d been in the middle of jungles, on alien planets no less, and felt more at home than she now did on a space station filled with people she knew and cared for. The question of what to do with her life had never before been in question, and yet now she found herself wondering just that. She’d even considered going home and finding a plot of land down the road from her father, becoming a gentleman farmer had worked for him when he was retired.

Sorilla firmly pushed those thoughts aside for the moment as she finished slinging on sweat clothes and headed out of the small gym.

She headed back to her quarters via the lift and got cleaned up, then redressed to go out. Even she knew that she’d spent too much time in her quarters recently, not counting the time spent with Alexi. That sort of shut in time wasn’t something to complain about, after all.

Still, Jerry and Tara had left her several messages that she’d ignored over the past few weeks, a small rudeness that had become normal enough to be a rather large rudeness actually. Sorilla sighed and made her way to the common areas, to see if either of them were around. She’d rather not meet them in their own quarters, that might lead to personal questions and discussions she’d rather avoid.

The lounge was fairly crowded, people milling about and congregating by the observation section. The windows here were the largest and least obstructed views from anywhere on the station, overlooking the curve of the planet and, perhaps more importantly to the crowd, also the alien ship floating out in the distance.

Since the aliens sent a diplo team to Hayden, Sorilla had not once seen them, even from a distance. This wasn’t surprising, she supposed, since she wasn’t exactly the sort of person the government would send with a diplo team unless they needed a combat extraction perhaps, and the aliens themselves weren’t exactly safe walking around the humans here on Hayden.

On Earth, they probably would have been safe enough, not that there was any chance of the Solarian Organization letting them near Earth… but not Hayden. Too many people lose their lives during the war, and most of the dying had happened either on the ground or in the skies of Hayden’s world.

Those were memories that weren’t about to die anytime soon.

Sorilla tried not to let them burn her up, she knew that war was seldom personal. She should, she’d fought enough of them, had more than enough kills on her own ledger to know that you did what you had to do. She’d known people who made it personal, everyone knew someone like that, but those people came to a bad end. It never failed.

“Sorilla!”

Shaken from her reverie, Sorilla plastered a smile on her face that was only about half fake as she recognized one of the colonists approaching her.

“Kim,” She said as the woman approached, “How have you been?”

“Better, and worse.” The woman answered, laughing softly. “But you know that.”

Sorilla nodded, recognizing the reference to her first mission on Hayden. Kim had been one of the refugees in the original camp she’d been taken to after her spectacularly failed infiltration mission. Times had been tough then. They had their good moments, but food had been tight and everyone had been worried about the enemy.

“Yeah, I know that.”

“I didn’t know you were still in system,” Kim answered, her tone sounding almost relieved. “We thought that you’d gone back to Earth months ago.”

“I’ve been keeping to myself.” Sorilla answered, honestly enough. She didn’t want to get into the story, certainly not then and there and preferably not at all.

“I suppose with them out there,” Kim said, eyes drifting to the observation ports where the alien ship was floating, “The army must want you close by.”

Sorilla managed to politely bury the snort that threaten to come up at the idea that she was remotely that important, and merely shook her head.

“I’m on leave,” She said, “I just didn’t feel like going home.”

“Well, still,” Kim said, “a lot of the others will be glad to know that you’re close by.”

Sorilla mumbled something as polite as she could manage, not really wanting to go down that line of thinking at the moment. She’d received more than her fair share of notoriety from the Hayden colonists, a situation that she wasn’t really familiar with to be honest. Most missions she had performed in the past were far lower key, generally resulting in her making a few friends, training a few soldiers, and generally fading into the background of the area’s history.

On Hayden things hadn’t followed that familiar and comforting pattern, not even slightly. First, with her team gone from the start, she had to be the one in charge. Normally her CO, a SF Major named Barnes, was the face of the team. He’s been an ass, but then most special forces people she knew qualified for that particular title she supposed. You had to fit in with the sort of people who were looking to cause some significant mayhem, manners and political correctness weren’t prerequisites for the most part.

Without him, however, she’d been stretched to the limit. Not only training, but also planning missions, conducting surveillance, and fifteen hundred other little jobs that required that she be everywhere at once. Sorilla supposed that it was little wonder that she was the face of the Hayden military movement now, such as it was. She’d slept maybe two hours a night during those weeks, stealing catnaps whenever she could to compensate, but to the Haydenites she knew that she had to have appeared as something just short of superhuman.

In truth, she’d been abusing both medical and electronic stimulants toward the end, but the only Haydenite who knew that was Tara. The Military knew, of course, with her implants tattling on her there was no way they couldn’t know, but they didn’t care as long as it remained an isolated incident. If she show a pattern of such behavior, or continued to boost while off duty, well then that would be a different story.

“… I really don’t know what the Solarian Organization is thinking, letting them park a ship out there,” Kim was speaking, but Sorilla missed the first part. She shook her head sharply, refocusing her attention back to the present.

“Don’t you agree?”

Sorilla had to tap her implants to pick up some of the context of the question, but that only took a second in a compressed feed. She masked it by looking pensive, then shrugged as the other woman’s words sank in.

“Diplomacy is better than shooting at each other, Kim,” Sorilla said, “Especially when the enemy has weapons that destroy planets.”

“But that’s what I mean, how could they let one of them this close to Hayden?”

“That’s a Parithalian cruiser,” Sorilla said, eyes flitting out to the ship floating in orbit just beyond the station. “We called them Deltas during the war, they’ve never used weapons of mass destruction against non-military targets and have shown no evidence of having the gravity valves used by the Alphas… Sorry, the Ros.”

Kim looked less than satisfied by that, but sighed and nodded, “Well if you say so.”

Sorilla made her excuses then and escaped from the other woman, not wanting to continue a conversation that she herself didn’t have certain feelings concerning. The aliens had to be talked to, that was a certainty, and she supposed that there were significant advantages to conducting the meetings near populated areas, but she felt strongly about Hayden herself now. Her team had died here, she’d given everything she had, as had many other people, all to preserve the security and liberty of Hayden’s World.

It seemed wrong to have the enemy this close, casting a shadow over the world so many died for.

Still, Sorilla was a realist. Better the shadow of truce than the fog of war.

She left the observation lounge, heading for Tara’s medical bay, but found herself dragging her feet. It was an unusual feeling for Sorilla, one she didn’t like, but she found herself feeling more and more hesitant with every step.

Tara, she knew, would want to talk. Talking was, in all honesty, the last thing Sorilla wanted to do just then. It was the last thing she’d wanted to do for a long time, in fact, ever since Alexi had broken the news to her about the loss of Valkyrie.

She’d heard the whispers not long after that, some from her own men, but most from the civilian crew of the Socrates. The idea that she as a Jonah, someone who doomed whoever she travelled with, didn’t take long to gather steam. Oh, most people didn’t buy into it fully, but spacers weren’t that far removed from their sailing ancestors and the idea itself was insidious.

Even she couldn’t quite shake it, and if she wondered about her survival in the face of so much death, how much must other people?

No, Sorilla didn’t want to talk.

The last thing she wanted was to hear someone who didn’t know telling her how it wasn’t her fault. Hell, she knew that. Even if she’d been with Valkyrie, what the hell could she have done? She was a combat trainer, not a space combat specialist. Valkyrie had the best of those that Sol could give them, and it didn’t do them much good in the end, so what could a hopped up Special Forces Sergeant have done anyway?

No, she knew that it wasn’t her fault, but that didn’t change the fact that she’d lost two whole task groups she’d been assigned to. Hell, she was the only survivor of the first, and one of precious few of the second.

Once was an accident. Twice, that was coincidence.

Deep down, though, Sorilla was afraid. She was terrified even, she didn’t want to see coincidence turn to pattern.

Sorilla doubted that she could survive that kind of pattern.

*****

The core doors around the outside loop of the station empty, the rapid her heels echoing as she walked to where the Socrates was docked. Sorilla hadn’t been back on board ship, and a ship, since the Socrates itself delivered her to Hayden. She’d been planet side a few times, spending days and sometimes weeks in the Hayden jungle, but most of her time spent on station.

She could feel it now, however, the old urge, deep down in her gut. She was being drawn out again, pulled back from the civilized existence she’d been living. Sorilla knew she’d have to head down well again soon, spend some time in the rough, or she’d probably get fidgety enough to hurt someone.

For the moment, however, she had to speak with Alexi.

She felt her lip twitch a bit as she thought about him, a certain self satisfied feeling flowing through her. He wasn’t really her type, if she were to categorize herself, but then she was pretty damn sure that she wasn’t his either. She didn’t know where they were going, as far as the whole couple thing went, but that wasn’t a surprise.

Ask her to field strip a rifle, or teach a course on guerilla tactics, and she’d have no troubles. Ask her about affairs of the heart? Well, she’d never been one of those girls. She’d gone a different path from the mainstream every step of her life and saw no reason to start marching to the expected beat anytime soon.

Besides, Alexi was fun and he challenged her in a way that she’d not experienced before. He wasn’t hard like most men she dealt with, despite being almost as fitness obsessed as she was. He didn’t think violence solved anything, and militantly stood his ground on that opinion, much to her amusement. She’d always believed that violence was the ultimate solution, a solution so effective that it had to be employed judiciously for fear of making an irreversible error.

Some problems didn’t need to be solved, they needed to be eliminated. That was where violence came into the game.

Still, he was a strong man with strong opinions that he kept to.

She liked that.

“Major.”

Sorilla didn’t look back as the voice spoke up, she could tell by the soft footfalls that it was a Navy man approaching from behind her. Something about space duty gave men and women a lithe step, probably all the time spent changing gravity. You either learned some grace or you spent a lot of time on your face.

She queried his implants with her RIF gear automatically, and quickly reviewed the top sheet of his file.

“What is it, Lieutenant?” She asked finally, not breaking stride.

“Admiral Ruger and General Codwell would like some of your time, Ma’am.”

That broke her stride. She didn’t know Ruger, but Codwell was well known enough, even though she’d never met the man. He had a bit of a hardass reputation, came up the ranks through the Rangers before joining SOLCOM. She’d been under the impression that he didn’t like her a whole lot.

Sorilla turned to look the slightly puffing Navy man, boy really, in the face.

“They bother to tell you why?”

“No Ma’am.”

“Order chit?” She asked, extending her hand.

There weren’t many reasons they’d send a person rather than just shoot an order over the network, and most of them were classified. A hard coded order chit would have the intel she needed.

“None ma’am, just a quiet face to face.”

Sorilla just stared at the man for a long moment, thinking furiously.

She couldn’t think of any reason they’d want to see her in person without any electronic signature.

Well, only one way I’m going to find out.

“Lead the way, Lieutenant.”

“Aye Ma’am.”

*****

Sorilla stepped into the conference room, barely noting the lower level of the lights. Her implants automatically adjusted to compensate anyway, so if the intent of the lowered lighting was some form of intimidation, they’d clearly not read her file.

She came to a stop in front of the table, standing to attention and saluted.

“Major Aida, reporting as ordered Sirs!”

“Stand at ease, Major.” General Codwell said from where he was seated. “In fact, take a seat. This may take a while.”

Sorilla paused, halfway to standing at ease, then awkwardly shifted to sit down.

“Do you know Admiral Ruger,” The General asked, gesturing to the man in Fleet Whites.

“No Sir.”

“The Admiral has been in charge of gathering intel on enemy movements, political stances, and the general mess associated with a foreign government,” Codwell said, “You know the drill.”

She nodded, “Yes sir.”

She did too, it was the first step before any sort of action. You learned as much as you could about the government you were dealing with, because you couldn’t determine what kind of action… if any… was required without doing just that.

“The Admiral just came back with the Diplo team, his report is in front of you.”

Sorilla’s eyes dipped, noting the flimsy on the table, but she made no motion toward it.

“You’re cleared, Major,” The General said with a very slight lift of his lips.

“Yes Sir.”

Sorilla picked up the flimsy, not bothering to turn it on. Instead she just downloaded the intel straight to her processor and had the intel summarized. It only took her a few moments to hit the highlights, and she basically ignored much of the in depth information available. She’d have time to read it later, if the situation required it.

“You’re going back,” She said after a few moments, looking to the Admiral. “Advisor slot?”

Ruger nodded, half smiling, “Very good Major.”

“Not hard to figure out,” Sorilla said, frowning, “This isn’t my usual assignment, Sir. Normally by the time I’m sent in, diplomacy isn’t a huge factor. I assume I won’t be in uniform for this…”

“You assume wrong, Major. We’ll put you into the Diplo-protection detail,” Ruger said, “That will get you into most places an ambassador can go, and a few they wouldn’t. You’ll keep your uniform and if you step on some toes, well that’s what ambassadors are for.”

Sorilla stared at him for a moment, her mind parsing that statement a few times. She licked her lips, trying very seriously to figure out the proper way to ask an Admiral if she was actually supposed to be a bullet stop for some jerk off politician.

Shit.

Yeah, there wasn’t a proper way she could ask that.

From the look on the Admiral’s face, she strongly suspected that he knew full well what she was thinking and had no intention of offering any help on the subject. Sorilla put the question aside finally, there was no answer to it that she’d like anyway.

“What are my orders and priorities?” She asked instead.

“Look for any holes in the alien system that we could wedge a little wider,” Ruger said, “anything that keeps them distracted, particularly the Ross, is a good thing for SOL. Don’t initiate anything without consulting with me… I don’t know if that’s likely to be even possible, but it should be said just in case.”

Sorilla tipped her head, acknowledging the order. He was right, on both counts, it was unlikely to be an issue, not with the limited resources she’d have available, but better to be clear on the subject.

“Don’t make the Ambassador’s job any harder than it has to be,” Ruger continued, “but don’t be afraid of moving either. We’ll be walking a tightrope, there’s no question about that. We don’t want another war, not now, we can’t afford it. We’ve come close to exhausting the useable asteroids in the belt already, and nowhere else in SOLCOM has the manufacturing facilities to build Terra class ships. We’re working on changing that, but for the immediate future we cannot fight another war.”

“Understood, Admiral.” Sorilla said.

She did understand, too. This was what she’d be trained for, albeit playing out on a larger field of battle than she was used to. Her job would be what it had been a dozen or more times in the past. Determine the most cost efficient want to destabilize a potentially dangerous regime, nurture home grown rebels, and generally make someone’s life miserable with as little involvement of SOLCOM as possible.

She could do that.

It was about then that Sorilla realized that she wasn’t even considering refusing the mission, the thought literally hadn’t crossed her mind. All considerations of leaving the military had been wiped away in an instant with no thought whatsoever.

Sorilla took a deep breath.

Yes, she could do this.

*****

Alexi Petronov glanced up, mildly surprised to see the familiar form in his door. It wasn’t just that she was on the Soc, however, it was the familiar uniform she wore. SOLCOM ground forces wore black dress tunics and pants, conforming tightly to the wearer, and she wore it well. The only nod to her previous career in the United States Military was the green beret with the Special Forces emblem seated proudly on her head.

He could only nod, recognizing that she’d made her choice.

“When are you shipping out?” He asked, a soft smile on his lips.

“Tomorrow,” Sorilla answered, smiling back. “I’ve been assigned to the Ambassador’s protective detail.

It was really all he could do not to outright laugh in her face at that.

Honestly, assigning Sorilla Aida to a protective detail was akin to use a nuclear bomb for point defense. That cover was so thin it was invisible to anyone who knew her, or even those who might recognize the beret resting on her skull.

Aliens won’t know that, I suppose, he thought, or she could just take off the funny hat.

This time he did laugh, mostly at the image of what she’d do to him if he called her beret a funny hat to her face. He wasn’t stupid enough to make those images come true, of course, which was the only reason they were funny.

“Yuk it up, Ivan.” Sorilla told him dryly, clearly misinterpreting his amusement.

He didn’t disabuse her of the notion, it was better for his health that way.

“So, bodyguard duty, then?” He asked, still smirking at her.

“It’s an important job,” She told him, teeth clenched.

“Oh, no doubt, no doubt,” He agreed, now grinning like a loon. “So, we celebrate tonight, da?”

Sorilla took a breath, then nodded, “Da.”

“Good, shall I call your friends?”

“No, thank you, I’ll arrange it.”

Alexi nodded, “As you say then. Is there anything else?”

Sorilla smirked back at him this time and stepped into the office, letting the door close. “I have a little time.”

“Well, I do love a woman in uniform,” Alexi grinned, now cheerfully as he keyed the door lock.

“You’d look good in one yourself,” She shook her head pityingly, “Better than these drab coveralls.”

“Bah, horrible things. Gives me hives. Best you let me get you out of those before it gets you too.”

Sorilla laughed, rolling her eyes as he caught her around the waist and pulled her in. “I thought you loved a woman in uniform?”

“Love you better out of uniform.”

It was probably very good that SOLCOM ships were built so solidly, Sorilla reflected as the buttons on her tunic came undone. Thermal insulation made for excellent soundproofing.

Chapter Three

“Welcome, Sentinal Kriss. I trust you’re fully recovered?”

Kriss nodded stiffly from where he was standing, “Yes Commander.”

“Good.”

The Parithalian commander was one of the highest military authorities in the sector, high enough that Kriss rarely have even seen the Pari, let alone spoke to him. It made the Lucian both slightly nervous, something he’d not admit of course but no Lucian enjoyed dealing with non-Lucian officers, and excited.

Being there, in the open air of the Pari’s office, meant that there was an assignment in the making. One that was clearly of some import.

“The Terrans are sending another envoy shortly, Sentinal, are you aware of this?”

Kriss shrugged very slightly, “Only in the most general terms, Commander.”

That was the straight truth, he didn’t follow such things unless there was an alert that hostilities were expected to commence. That wasn’t the case here, however, not yet at any rate. The Terran species seemed to have little interest in reigniting the war, and the Alliance certainly didn’t want that. Not until they’d worked out what the singularity happened to their expeditionary fleet at the very least, and probably not even then.

“It’s expected that we’ll sign a basic truce agreement,” The Commander went on, “Nothing too involved, but it is in the Alliance’s interest to see it go through with no problems at the moment.”

Kriss was starting to get a sinking feeling that this wasn’t the sort of assignment he’d prefer.

“Commander? I don’t believe this sounds like a task for Sentinels…”

“We believe that the Ross will attempt to interfere with the truce agreement,” The Commander continued, ignoring his objection.

The interruption, as well as the words, stopped the words dead in Kriss’ throat. He silently considered the information before speaking again.

“The Ross are not the sort to act on their own,” Kriss said finally, with some uncertainty.

“More than you know, but in this case we expect them to act through intermediaries. They’re not strong enough to incur the full displeasure of the Alliance, and they’re well aware of that fact.”

“So, probably through Kirlan agents then,” Kriss said.

“Possibly, but there are other possibilities.”

The Kirlan were a musclebound species that had been linked with the Ross for as long as anyone knew, some speculated that the Ross had raised the Kirlan up from some primitive world to use as slaves, but there was little evidence of that.

“Most concerning would be the Kaylan,” The Commander said, “They’ve been in open revolt for some time and, while we’ve kept it under control, it would be in their interests to spark another war in this sector.”

Kriss nodded, “This is true, however the Ross are not known for their diplomatic skills. I find it hard to believe that they would be able to manipulate something of this nature without it being blatantly obvious.”

The Commander deflated slightly, “It is possible that they also have some help from within the Alliance worlds themselves. Several defense corporations are keen to pick up new contracts, and these Terrans have proven quiet clearly that they’re more than capable of causing a keen level of attrition. Analysts suggest no risk of the Alliance losing a full scale war, but the cost in terms of both serving sentients and equipment would be… atrocious. Unless, of course, you own the corporation responsible for replacing said equipment.”

Kriss hissed at that, not that he was against a nice little war with the Terrans but because of the treachery involved. The Lucians, Sentinels especially, lived for conflict. It was what he’d always wanted to do, and honestly the few skirmishes he’d had with the Terrans had been some of the best fights he’d known.

Oh, not all of them, of course. Most seemed to be little more than your average militant species, soft and technology dependant. However, their technology was impressive on a one to one level, and they had their own Sentinels.

Few species truly had those.

He’d barely survived encounters with the Terran Sentinels on at least three occasions, each of those were exhilarating combats that he’d already logged with the Lucian archives. The last time had nearly resulted in his capture, when he barely escaped the retaking of the Terran ship after being cut off from his team.

Starting a war for money however, that was below contempt.

Most combatants weren’t Lucians, and they weren’t Sentinels. Kriss understood the other species well, they served to protect their people rather than to thrust themselves into war for the sheer joy of it. To start a war for money was to spit on their service, and that was something no Sentinel could stomach.

“So we don’t know who will attempt to spike the reactor, then?” He showed his teeth, “Well, that makes things interesting.”

“Indeed. Find them, eliminate them.” The Commander ordered, “We cannot have another war with the Terrans so quickly, it would almost certainly destabilize the entire sector.”

“Understood. What will be tell the Terrans?”

“nothing.” The Pari Commander said coldly, “You’ll just be part of the security detail.”

“Very well, I understand my orders.”

*****

Master of Ships Reethan Parath had mixed feelings about his new assignment.

It was to be expected, he supposed, that he be pulled back from the frontier somewhat, considering the events in what was now disputed space. The loss of ships, including an entire expeditionary force and at least one unaccounted for Ross cruiser, had to be put on the shoulders of someone. Since he was the only Master of Ships to come back, well he was appointed the task.

Still, it wasn’t total oblivion for his career, he had too much experience and general knowledge of the new species to be consigned to some obscure corner of Pari space and forgotten. So instead they made him a Master of Station at the primary jump point junction in the sector, conveniently where the talks between the Alliance and Terrans were taking place.

Ostensibly it might even be called a promotion, but only by someone with little knowledge of Parithalian military politics. A Master of Station was, indeed, a higher rank but it also held no authority over any Ship’s Master in the system if the presence of a Master of Ships was present, and there was always at least one Master of Ships near the Junction system of Piran.

That left him the highest ranking Master in a system where his power began and ended with the station he now commanded. There were worse things that could happen to a Parithalian Master of Ships, he supposed, but few of them didn’t involve enemy action.

Parath stepped out onto the command floor of the station, a truly immense space that felt more like the open air of his homeworld than an artificial bubble in space. It was one of very few perks to the change in his position, but he would enjoy it all the more for that very reason.

“Report.” He said calmly, approaching the central command area.

“All ships are proceeding as ordered, no deviations, Master.”

“Good. When are we expecting the Terrans back?”

“Not for some time, Master, twelve full cycles at the minimum estimate.” The sub-prentice offered. “Shall I have you informed when they enter the system?”

“Yes.” Parath ordered simply. “I should like to be on floor for their approach.”

“Yes sir, I understand they’re very dangerous.”

There was a softly hidden question in those words, something that didn’t surprise Parath really. The Terrans had earned themselves something of a legend in Alliance space. Not even the Ross had ever made an entire Expeditionary Fleet simply vanish. The total lack of any trace had done far more to spook people than the destruction itself ever could have.

Fleets sometimes were lost in combat, that had happened, but they were never simple lost.

Parath himself felt a familiar shiver just at the thought of it, after all he could have been with them under slightly different circumstances. He got a hold of himself, however, and snapped out of the reverie when he noticed the sub-prentice looking his direction.

“Yes, Shir,” He told her, “They are dangerous, but no more than we or any other member of the Alliance, and they are respectable ship handlers. Do not fear them for what we don’t know, respect them for what we do.”

“Yes Master.”

He watched her return to her work for a time, then refocused his attention elsewhere.

The Piran system was a busy trade hub, deep enough inside Alliance space to be well protected by more strategically controlled stars, but close enough to Terran controlled space to make a very attractive meeting area. It was a spectacle intended to wow the Terrans, he suspected, with almost literally uncountable planetary masses of materials being exchanged and transported through every cycle.

The system was of little to no strategic value beyond the trade strength, however, since it was far enough inside Alliance space to make the junction system of little use to military ships. Only slower and less powerful merchants needed the local jump points, so there was little in the way of security value or Alliance secrets here for the Terrans to dig into.

As far as such things went, at least.

Parath wondered sometimes how the Alliance envoy was handling his station in the Terran sphere. It was information he was not privy to, but he suspected that must be a very interesting position, in every sense of the word.

May you fly interesting skies, and surfaces never touch.

The Parithalian Master of Station for Piran couldn’t help but think that ancient blessing and curse was uniquely fitting for his life now and, in all likelihood, into the future.

*****

“Are things in place?”

The speaker was seated in a darkened room in the heavy gravity section of the station, cast in shadows not out of intent to conceal but because his species had developed in the light cast by a brown dwarf star and had little love of brightness.

“Yes, we’ve prepared the necessary people and shifted equipment around.”

“None of it can be traced back to us?”

“No. The Ross themselves moved some of the weapons into the area, and you know how impossible it is to track their shipments.”

The slender figure nodded, just visible in the low light. It was true, the Ross were infamous for being able to shift cargo, illicit or otherwise, through any and all attempts at blockade. No one had been able to determine how, and no customs inspector had yet managed to catch them at it either. It was an enviable record, particularly among those species who made significant portions of their wealth in the more grey parts of the interstellar trade.

“Excellent. So, we wait now, for the… what are they called again?”

“Terrans, Sir, or Humans.”

“Well, whatever, we wait for their return.” The slender figure snorted humorlessly.

“What is it, Sir?”

“Just an amusing thought occurred to me,” was the response, “After all this investment, it would be rather annoying if something happened and they broke off negotiations on their own before we could encourage it.”

“I suppose so.”

The slender figure waved off the obvious confusion, “Do not let my humor trouble you, Skavid. Go back, prepare your people. Reports indicate we have some time, but not as much as we might like. There is far too much invested and not wagered on this operation for us to fail.”

“As you order, Sir.”

The subservient figure bowed and left the room, letting in the light for a moment just in time to expose the pale alabaster color of the slender figure’s flesh as he winced and glanced away from the door briefly.

What is it with these youth species and their love of light? It is so untrustworthy a way of observing the universe.

The door closed, leaving the figure along in the dark again, pondering the future set before him.

The Ross had triggered a right mess, bumbling around the frontier as they had. He didn’t know who, how, or why anyone would give them the rights to open new territories with Alliance backing, but it had been done.

Likely someone was paid well and truly for that bit of paperwork.

It was done, now, however and while it had certainly proved costly for the Alliance there was profit to be had. The main fleet suppliers already had new contracts worth fortunes that many planets would choke on, where they forced to spend such wealth. An entire new fleet of ships had to be replaced, and it seemed that the fear of the unknown ‘weapon’ used was pushing a movement to expand the fleet.

With fleet numbers having been regulated since the war with the Ross, any expansion was enough to make suppliers practically enter a mating frenzy.

That vote for expansion was at risk, however, if this treaty went through.

With wealth surpassing the entire domestic product of some of the smaller stellar empires, there was significant value in preventing it from being passed… at least for the time being.

The being almost pitied the… Humans, was it?

Whatever.

They had no clue what they were flying into, but that was what made it all the better. If he did things right, not only would there be no treaty signed but shortly the Alliance would be in an official shooting war for the first time since the Ross War.

Small skirmishes were fine for business, but nothing sold ships and weapons like the real deal.

It’s time to use up some of the stockpiles the Fleets have been storing anyway, can’t have them sitting there in the warehouses too long. They might get the idea they don’t need to buy new toys if the old ones aren’t played with from time to time.

Chapter Four

The USV Mexico was a third Generation Terra Class starship and, like her sisters, something of a monster in space.

Constructed from meteor iron in a solar forge, the ship had little concern for the worries that plagued space ship builders generations past. Size, weight, overall mass… these factors were hardly a consideration in any of the Terra class ships.

Inside and out, they were huge.

Laid out more like an office building than a conventional starship, the Mexico had ninety decks from stem to stern, not counting the observation spires that arced forward from her aft. The ship only looked sleek from a distance, from up close her fourteen hundred meter mass was enough to make even the oldest hand gape just a little.

Her core, however, is what gave the Mexico her fighting trim.

Without the alien singularity design that formed the base of her gravity core, the Mexico would have been limited to the same few gravities of acceleration as her ancestors. Even at their best the Los Angeles, Hood, and Cheyenne class ships were little more than stationary targets to a ship like the Mexico.

For Sorilla walking the decks of the still gleaming ship was a bittersweet homecoming.

She’d served on all of the last several generations of ships, beginning with the Los Angeles herself. They’d all been great ships, crewed by incredible people, but the Mexico and the Terra class as a whole were in a completely different league and there was absolutely no question of that in her, or any, mind.

The Terra ships were the finest every built by human hands.

So what the hell happened to Valkyrie?

It was the burning question that everyone wanted to know, especially those who served on Terra class ships. Was it some alien weapon that did them in, or was there something unknown with the singularity mass that resulted in the disappearance of the task force?

Since she’d recently been cleared for some of the intelligence reports coming back from negotiations, Sorilla was one of very few to know that it was almost certainly not some secret alien weapon. In fact, the aliens seemed as confused and concerned as anyone else about the whole matter.

Which left the ships themselves, she supposed, and the spectre of alien technology that helped give them their incredible speed and maneuvering, not to mention steady gravity. If there was something wrong with the singularities, something catastrophic in the system or the software, at least she supposed that none of them would likely every realize it before whatever it was vanished them too.

It was cold comfort, but that was all the comfort Sorilla knew she was likely to get.

So it wasn’t a surprise for to feel tension as she walked the decks of the Mexico, nor to feel it faintly in the air. Alexi had told her about the concerns and scuttlebutt floating around the fleet about the Terra class and their alien technology, but she’d been a little too self absorbed at the time to really let it sink in.

She could feel it now, see it in the way people walked. There was a hidden tension, one she suspected that few of the crew knew they harbored, even. It was visible in their body language, however, the way they walked, the way they held themselves. Her processor could pick it right out of the air, literally, in the voice stress of a dozen whispered conversations she heard in passing.

If something happens to us, it’ll be the end for the Terra class I’ll bet, Sorilla speculated.

She knew the power of rumor and fear, she used it often enough to her own advantage after all. Propaganda was one of the first tools in her toolbox, and the most effective under normal conditions. Over the centuries, humans had become masters of it, to the point where it was habitually used even in peacetime on allies and citizens.

Which brings me to something not covered in my orders, Sorilla mused as she continued to make her way to her quarters. I’ll have to try to pick up enough alien psychology to make that particular tool useful again.

On Hayden she’d only been able to use that part of psychological warfare in the most basic ways. Strike and fade tactics, making it look like the jungles were haunted, those sorts of things. Honestly she didn’t even know if it worked, but it was habit and good tradecraft so she’d kept it up and taught it to her Pathfinders.

Against human foes, it would have been effective and demoralizing. Against aliens?

Sorilla mentally shrugged. No one had a clue.

Going to have to fix that.

She came to a stop in the corridor, checked the section number again, and then her location on her implanted HUD.

Home sweet home, Sorilla thought as she wrenched open the heavy door and stepped across the threshold, careful to preserve her shins from being barked on the knee knocker. She tossed the duffle to the floor and swung the door closed behind her.

It was going to be a long mission, she suspected.

*****

“Admiral on deck!”

“As you were,” Ruger said as he stepped over the knee knocker that separated the bridge from the corridor, walking across the open deck to where the Captain was standing.

Captain Hiro Usagi had the air of a man about to go into battle, no matter when Ruger saw the man. Sometimes he wondered if Usagi looked like that before taking a shower or using the toilette, but those were amusing questions he kept completely to himself. There was little doubt that Usagi wouldn’t find them amusing.

“Welcome, Admiral,” The Captain said in only very slightly accented English, just the barest hint of his native tongue’s guttural burr carrying over.

“Thank you, Captain. Are we ready?”

“Still taking on provisions, Sir. The last transfers from Hayden Station are scheduled to be complete by Fifteen Hundred today.”

“Good, and we’re cleared for departure?”

“By Sixteen Thirty hours, Sir.”

Ruger nodded, “Excellent as always.”

He started to turn away when the Captain lightly cleared his throat, bringing his attention back.

Usagi’s deep voice contained a certain concern that Ruger was surprised by, he’d never heard the man use anything but the most professional tone in the past.

“Sir,” Usagi saod, his voice dropping, “I understand you’ve assigned Major Aida to the Diplomatic Security Detail…”

Ruger raised an eyebrow, “You know her?”

“Of her, Sir. Fleet knows of her.”

The Admiral sighed, just slightly exasperated, “Really Captain, I never took you for one to buy into that albatross nonsense.”

Usagi stiffened, “What I buy into or choose not to buy into hardly matters. The crew is already spooked by the loss of Valkyrie as things stand, adding Aida’s reputation to the worry over the Singularity reactor is a concern.”

“The Major is the foremost expert on alien tactics, and she’s an expert asymmetrical warfare. Find me someone else who can do the job we need done and I’ll consider your concerns,” Ruger replied in a quietly firm tone, “Clear?”

“Clear. Sir.”

Ruger sighed. He was honestly disappointed with the Captain, but more so with the crew because he knew Usagi was quite correct in his assessment. It wasn’t blatant, but any spacer worth his Oxygen could feel that something was off when you wandered the decks of the Mexico… or any of the Terras now.

The crews were scared.

Not the terror that comes from battle or crisis, no that was a fear you could face and overcome. The men and women on board the ships of SOLCOM were born to face that sort of fear. What this was, however, was a persistent background terror that you almost didn’t notice even as it ate away at your composure like water eroding a stone over centuries.

How do you fight something like that? Something you can’t face, you can barely even feel?

Ruger hoped the mission went well, otherwise he suspected that the Mexico wouldn’t be the last crew to fall to this particular enemy.

*****

“They have a certain basic elegance to them, do they not, Master of Ships?”

The blue skinned Parithalian glanced up and at the screen that was showing the Terran ship across the full breadth of the main screen before she shrugged, “Possibly, Ambassador. I hadn’t considered it.”

The Ambassador, a squat dark skinned individual from deeper in Alliance territory than the Parithalians, glanced over skeptically.

“Truly? I thought you Pari’s were all ship mad.”

The Master of Ships sighed, turning to look at the screens, “It is an effective design, but far from elegant if you want my true assessment.”

“Oh? Do tell.”

“They use a particularly volatile thrust mechanism, fueled by diamether. No sane species would have that anywhere near a ship, let alone as the fuel for one. It’s a minor miracle the ship doesn’t vanish into photons the instant it is put under thrust.” She said, a hint of distaste in her tone. “Frankly, just being this close to one of their ships makes me nervous, Commander.”

“Diamether? Truly?” The Ambassador frowned, “Isn’t that a controlled element?”

“No, Ambassador, it’s an uncontrollable element,” The Master of Ships muttered, “hence my concerns. I believe that they use Diamether Hydrogen, assuming intelligence gathered on the captured ship is correct. We have a strict procedure in place now, ordering all fleet ships to avoid the propulsion wake of Terran craft. Even slight inefficiencies in their drive system will leave occasional clusters of Diamether floating in space. Not enough to seriously harm one of our ships, but certainly enough to chew up our outer hulls and require an increased maintenance schedule.”

“Do they use it as a weapon?”

“No, they’re insane, not stupid.” The Master of Ships chuckled, then settled somewhat, “Their ships are a frightening conglomeration of technologies we consider obsolete and technologies we don’t even remotely understand… and the part that honestly frightens me, Ambassador, is that I’m reasonably certain they don’t understand them either.”

“That seems unlikely.” The Ambassador said skeptically.

On the screen the large ship slowly pivoted in space, bringing its nose away from the planet.

“Watch, they’re going to aim their thrust carefully,” The Master of Ships said, “they’ll use the gravity of the planet to sweep up any residual particles, letting them annihilate in the upper atmosphere.”

The Ambassador watched, mouth slightly open as the ship clearly did just that, aiming it’s aft thrust well away from the Terran station and the Alliance vessel, but right into the upper atmosphere of the planet.

“Screen overlay,” The Master of Ships called, “High energy scans.”

The screen went mostly dark, aside from the point where the Terran ship’s engines were warming up. There a brilliant blast of light was showing, exploding out of the ship and toward the planet.

“Second screen,” She called then, “Upper atmosphere, high energy scans.”

Now the Ambassador found himself looking at the second screen as it showed another dark swath of space, the planet barely visible in the background, aside from some brilliant dots of light exploding into action from nowhere.

“Those are normal readings, Sir,” The Master of Ships said, “High energy radiation impacting stray clusters of atmosphere and condensing into particle singularities. Happens over every world… but just keep watching… there.”

As he watched a stream of particles exploded across the screen, lighting it up in a brilliant show of energy.

“Abyssal Singularity,” He breathed out.

“The opposite, actually,” She corrected him, “in many ways, at least. However, it’s important to note, those particles could easily have chewed into our hull just as quickly as they lit up that screen. Terran ships are a navigational hazard, so no, Ambassador, I do not think they’re elegant… not basically or in any other way.”

*****

Sorilla rested her head against the sink in her room, trying to will away the nausea she felt as the gravity core and the ship’s engines fought a tug of war with her internal organs.

On a rational level she was aware that the difference she felt was minute variations, primarily caused by the timelapse between thrust vectoring and the computer getting orders to the singularity generator, but minute or not she felt like she was enduring the worst hangover of her life… and she’d had more than a few to compare it to.

God I hate Terra class ships.

Sorilla got up, forcing herself straight, and tried to ignore the sensations coming from her implants. Unfortunately that wasn’t helping a great deal so she finally just slammed her fist into the bulkhead, relishing the pain lancing from her knuckles, and decided to head for the Gym. She had to do something or she wasn’t going to survive the journey, she’d learned that on Valkyrie.

Sorilla winced at the memory, but determinedly continued on her path, down the corridor from her room and to the lift. She had to go up eight decks to the gym, but that was better than wallowing in misery induced by motion sickness and bad memories.

*****

“Is that her?”

The looks and whispers followed the muscular woman as she ran on one of the ship’s treadmills, clearly ignoring anyone and everything around her. That didn’t stop those who noticed her from paying an exceptional level of attention to her, however.

“I hear she was the only survivor of her last three ships.”

“Don’t be stupid. It was one ship, the Los Angeles. Her team survived the last one, and the one in between wasn’t destroyed.”

“She was deployed out of the Hood, it went down, remember?”

“Just the command deck, most of the crew survived.”

“She’s still a jinx. Don’t want that bad luck charm anywhere near me.”

“Well suck it up, unless you want to try walking home.”

*****

Navy pukes.

Sorilla didn’t really blame them for what they were thinking, she’d wondered many of the same things herself, but she couldn’t forgive them for the stupidity of thinking they were whispering quietly enough that she couldn’t hear them. Her implant suite was classified, yes, but even the normal implants would pick up more than half the idiots she’d heard.

She ignored them all the same, it wouldn’t do her any good to get into a shouting match with some moron, let alone what would happen if she broke the idiot’s nose for one of those cracks.

She reached out and thumbed the pace of the treadmill up a bit higher, breaking into run as her warm up jog was completed. She ignored the readout on the machine, using her own implants to monitor her medical readings.

She was four klicks into her run when the machine next to her whirred into motion and the familiar thudding of feet began beside her. She didn’t look to one side, didn’t care who it was, instead opting just to keep on with her own run in silence.

The silence lasted another three minutes before her ‘companion’ spoke up.

“So you’re Aida.”

She didn’t bother responding, kept looking ahead as she ran.

She did, however, pull up a voice analysis and dumped it from her processor into the computer of the Mexico.

“Don’t bother,” The voice said, “save the computer cycles, I’m Hadrian Swift.”

That brought her up short, Sorilla almost stumbled in fact, then glanced to one side to look at him while she got her pace back. His ID appeared on her HUD, along with a brief dossier.

Civilian bodyguard. Great.

“Ambassadorial protection detail,” She said, looking ahead again. “I suppose that makes you my boss.”

“Technically.”

“You’re monitoring my implants?”

He chuckled, “No. I was briefed, however, and I’d have run a check. Frankly, I’d have been disappointed if you didn’t. I will be checking later, just to be sure you did, by the way.”

“Of course you will,” She said dryly. “What brings you over to the pariah section of the Gym?”

“I try to chat with my subordinates before we wind up in a situation where I might have to actually depend on them,” He told her simply.

Sorilla snorted, “You do know that I’m not actually part of your detail, right?”

“Of course.” He told her, “I don’t expect you to help me with my job, Major. What I’m trying to determine is if you’re going to make my job harder.”

Sorilla reached forward and turned her machine off, slowing to a jog as it went into the cool down cycle.

“I’m not going to be stepping on your toes if I can help it, Swift.” She said simply.

“See, it’s that qualifier that worries me, Major,” He said, thumbing his own treadmill to match hers. Swift looked over at her as he slowed, “I’ve worked with you army lunatics before, and you people are a damned nightmare.”

“You people?” She slowed to a stop, glaring at him.

He stopped, matching her glare, “Army green leads to blood red on the ground. My job is to prevent violence, yours is to make it more effective. So let me make this clear, you’re officially part of my detail and there’s nothing I can do about that, but if you start blowing shit up around my primary I’ll put a round in your skull myself.”

Sorilla stepped off the treadmill, her own frame dwarfed by the muscled form of the bodyguard. She stepped up to him and smiled, “If I’m blowing shit up around your primary, you’re going to have bigger fish to fry… also, you don’t carry a piece big enough to put a round in me… sir.”

Then she pushed past him, not glancing back as she accessed the controls of the treadmill through her short range transmitters and cranked the speed up as high as it would go.

The thud of Swift hitting the rubber mat of the machine, followed by another meaty smack of him hitting the rear wall, brought the first smile to her face she’d had since coming on board.

Diplo protection. I’m leaving this job off my resume if anyone ever asks.

*****

The Mexico crossed out of Hayden space at Twenty One Hundred hours, almost to the minute, on course for the first of several jump points on their mission itinerary.

The Jump point was an area of space where standing gravity waves were almost entirely neutralized by local and extra-solar interference. This allowed starships to punch through into non-universal space, where the ‘local’ laws of time and space no longer applied.

The USV Mexico powered her jump drive just as she entered the edge of the invisible point in spacetime, and flung herself out into the black ether scant seconds later.

Chapter Five

“Reports from the frontier, Station Master. The Terran ship has jumped into Alliance space.”

“How long until they arrive?” Parath queried, mostly just curious.

“Two more full cycles.”

“Very well,” Parath said, “log the details and inform the Ambassador.”

“Yes, Master.”

Parath settled in, figuring it would be a quiet cycle or two. Once the Terrans were on station, well, then he could expect that to change. There were too many forces converging on his station for him to expect much peace once the Terrans provided a catalyst to the mix. He was aware of the official players, the Ambassador and his team, various security forces, and representatives for the affiliated species.

That meant that the Ross, the Parithalian, and the Lucians had representatives involved. Technically the Kirlan as well, but they always cast their vote with the Ross so he didn’t count them.

Those were the known players, but Parath wasn’t blind enough to think that was a total list.

There are too many new faces renting high level decks of this station, parking in expensive stationary orbits, or just plain thinking that they can hide from a trained Parithalian Master of Ships by pretending to be ‘simple traders’. As if I can’t recognize military pilots, no matter what sort of scow they’re in control of.

The gathering of forces meant plans. Someone was making them, someone was executing them, and that meant someone had a use for the Terrans. That was something that worried him.

Certain members of the Alliance once had a use for the Ross, too, as he recalled.

Those plans ended with eighteen annihilated worlds, another thirty or more burned to the bedrock. Making plans about a technically advanced species without involving them was a sure way to bring about retaliation.

“Tell Asir I want to speak with station security before the Terran’s arrive.” He said finally.

“Yes Master, may I say about what?”

“I need them to start hunting spies.”

*****

Kriss didn’t like his current job one bit, would have turned it down most times, but frankly he had a bit of a bone to pick with whoever set this whole situation in motion and this was the only way he knew to be entered into the game.

A sentinel’s job was the fight, not snoop.

Sometimes, however, one had to do things they didn’t particularly like in order to be permitted to continue doing what it was they wanted.

“Sentinal Kriss.”

He looked up, relieved for anything that distracted him from filling out reports on actions he didn’t actually give a damn about. Reports were bad enough when they were about combat, but why in the singular abyss would anyone want a report filled out about how much nothing he’d accomplished all day?

“What is it?”

“The Terran ship has crossed the frontier sentries, it will arrive shortly.”

Kriss smiled slowly, Finally. I may detest my assignment, but at least we’re about to see some movement on it.

He wondered, really, if the Terran Sentinels got these sorts of assignments?

*****

Sorilla checked her uniform carefully with a dour eye, scouring herself in the mirror as she looked for the slightest imperfection. After several long moments she finally gave a short, sharp nod to her own reflection and snap unfurled her beret. The inspection ritual continued with that piece of cloth that had already seen five worlds, combat across most of them, and the interior of an alien ship that would likely remain classified long past her lifespan.

Somehow it was still serviceable, she honestly wasn’t sure how, but she’d take it.

Sorilla set the beret on her head, adjusting the rake just so, then gave herself a final narrow eyed glare in the mirror before mentally pronouncing herself fit for inspection.

The Mexico had entered the alien system a short while earlier, making its approach to the primary world at a sedate ten gravities acceleration at the request of the locals. It meant the trip downwell had taken a lot of extra time, but being privy to the reasoning they gave, Sorilla neither faulted no begrudged them the request.

She’d never realized how much the exhaust plume of a VASIMR drive left in terms of non-annihilated antimatter, of course she’d never really cared either.

For a system with as much traffic as the one they were currently visiting, that simply had to be a serious navigational hazard. She was almost surprised that no environmental groups on Earth had begun protests yet, the more she thought about it.

Of course, she’d seen the radiation and high energy particle pulses put out by the enemy’s warp drives, so really she didn’t think they had a lot of room to complain, but maybe she was misunderstanding something. It wasn’t her concern, in any case.

Right now, her worry was more about the presentation and welcoming ceremony she was ordered to attend.

*****

The massive lock cycled, lifting the alien shuttle up from the evacuated landing deck to the flight deck where the welcoming ceremony was to be held.

Fleet men and women were lined up in perfect ranks, resplendent in their dress whites. The Marines of the USV Mexico had broken out their traditional dress blues and regalia, right down to the ceremonial sabers that always made Sorilla want to chuckle.

She herself, along with a scattering of others on board, was dressed In OPCOM blacks. More utilitarian than the rest, but respectable enough to pass for something one wore to special occasions. The largely civilian representatives of the Diplo-protection team were also in black, but they wore suits tailored to hide the powerful handguns worn underneath.

Sorilla wasn’t hiding her weapons.

Her OPCOM Metalstorm 44 was riding on her right thigh, and her fighting blade rested low on her left. If anyone asked, she was authorized to carry as a member of the Diplo-protection detail, but she practically defied anyone to have the gall to ask.

The hatch on the alien lander opened quicker than she’d expected, causing her eyes to narrow as she examined the craft a little closer.

It’s a troop deployment shuttle. Almost missed it, look very similar to what the file said was a courier shuttle.

The hatch served as a gangplank, and Sorilla watched as the aliens stepped down and onto the deck of the Mexico.

She recognized the species she’d fought against, even the ones she’d only see second hand. A blue skinned Parithalian seemed to be the one in charge, judging from positions and body language, though it was impossible to be certain since her files were all geared toward recognizing human interations.

This will be a perfect chance to start changing that, Sorilla decided as the procession continued on.

The Lucians were there as well, and she wasn’t surprised to find that they were armed and arrayed as bodyguards. Her implants screamed at her, though, and that did take her out of the moment for a second while she refocused on what they’d spotted.

The boss Lucian, if she were right in her guess, was carrying a familiar blade. It was an OPCOM carbon blade with molecular edging, which meant it was a war trophy. She focused on him a lot closer, trying to determine what she could about him.

Unfortunately, while it sounded bad to say or think, the Aliens really did all look alike. Humans were trained from birth to recognize very subtle clues in the features of those they encountered frequently, but that tended to make many people feature blind when they moved farther away from their personal normal. Sorilla had trained for years to beat that tendency, it was necessary in her line of work that she not look at a foreign face and think that they all looked the same to her, but the aliens were just too… alien, she was finding.

Another thing to work on, She noted, suppressing a scowl before turning her implants loose on the Lucian.

She wasn’t expecting much, frankly, they only had images of half a handful of the enemy they’d identified as Charlie, but she ran the image recognition anyway. That meant she was all the more shocked when it found a match, and damn near floored when the match was superimposed over her HUD.

No way he’s Diplo-protection, She breathed, eyes wide and glowing.

The Lucian was the one she’d faced after her skydive from the Hayden tether car.

*****

Kriss looked over the assembled Terrans with a cautious eye. He wasn’t expecting trouble, one normally didn’t try to start anything during a welcoming ceremony. If anyone was planning something for later, however, they might slip up here. Unfortunately he wasn’t trained in recognizing the body language of the species, so it would be a difficult task at best.

The closest ranks were garbed in blue, carrying weapons but near useless ones. He presumed they were for ceremony only, given that the metal blades likely wouldn’t be able to cut synthetic fabrics let alone armor or Lucian flesh. If he weren’t carrying an example of Terran combat blades on him, he might make the mistake of underestimating them right then and there.

Those in white were the shiphandlers, and good enough at the jobs to earn a modicum of respect from the Pari. They were of little concern to him, however, given that few shiphandlers had even a modicum of competency with weapons small enough to be carried without a heavy transport.

No, it was those in black that drew his attention.

They were all armed, which made them the guardians.

Kriss didn’t like the job he was doing, but he had a grudging respect for those who chose it as their occupation. It took a certain mental twist to elect of your own free will to be the person who jumps in front of a pulse blast meant for someone else. Particularly given that it was rarely someone you liked who got the honor.

His eyes flicked over them slowly, noting the location of each sidearm despite the clothing intended to hide it.

They looked disciplined, serious, but nothing he couldn’t handle if were told to assassinate the ambassador. That was an order that would not be forthcoming, but it felt good to know he could be reasonably confident of success in such a case.

Kriss stopped, eyes freezing on the last of their number.

Her weapon, and she was a female he was reasonably certain, was out in the open along with a blade like the one he wore. Her uniform was different than her fellows, but it matched that of a handful of others scattered around the deck. He didn’t know it, whatever it was hadn’t been part of the intelligence dump they’d recovered from the Terran ship.

Her eyes were locked on him, however, and he felt a chill as he recognized that she was sizing him up exactly the way he was doing to her.

This one is trouble.

That was for later, however, for now they had to endure the coming ceremony and the rambling of those who talked for a living.

Kriss almost wished for a nice assassination attempt.

Almost.

*****

Sorilla did her best to tune out the droning of the diplomats, she’d skim everything later if it turned out to be useful. Most of it was just noise as far as she was concerned, so she hacked the ship’s cameras and used them to watch the Lucian instead.

If he was here, she’d wager a year’s pay that he wasn’t here for any sort of diplomatic protection. You didn’t send special forces as a protection detail, that wasn’t what they were good at.

So, is he doing the same thing I am, or do they have something else in mind?

That had just become a new mission priority for her, figuring out what the Alliance’s play was. If they were looking to sow a few conflicts of their own, well that was one thing. She thought it unlikely, however, since the human race was a little too united at the moment. For them to even come close they’d have to get back to Earth, maybe stir up trouble with China or India, possibly get some home grown terrorist cells in place.

All that was impossible at the moment, however, simply due to lack of contact. So, barring some form of mind control, she was reasonably certain that they wouldn’t be turning any of the crew of the Mexico against humanity.

That leaves an attack from their side, Sorilla supposed. Either the Lucian is authorized to derail these negotiations directly, or he’s here to ensure that someone else doesn’t.

While the Ambassador was continuing to drone on, Sorilla compiled a quick report and dropped it into the Admiral’s eyes only folder.

She took an admittedly delicious sense of self satisfaction in watching him twitch from across the room when the alert pinged on his implants.

At least I’m not the only one dealing with surprises today.

*****

“Welcome on board the USV Mexico, Ambassador…”

Ruger twitched as his retinal implant listed a priority message sitting in his personal folder, a location only a handful of people had access to. He tuned out the Ambassador’s voice and brought up the file quickly. It was a report, thankfully with a very quick synopsis in the header, from the Major. He was happy she knew how to feed important intel, at least, if not necessarily with her timing.

Her intel was interesting, however. He flicked his eyes over to the Lucian who was standing stiffly behind the delegates, noting the SOCOM blade on his belt.

Brass ones on this bastard, carrying that in here.

It took some serious brass to carry a war trophy right into the middle of the people you took it off of, peace treaty or no.

The fact that he was one of those who’d been on the ground on Hayden made him an person of interest to be sure. Ruger wondered if they’d be able to get him alone sometime, but he doubted it. He’d give a good deal for a few days with the alien, however. Even if he couldn’t get the Lucian to answer any questions, it’d still be an informative session.

It was a pipe dream, however, since the alien would be covered by diplomatic protection and war was the last thing Earth either wanted or needed with these aliens.

Ruger flagged the man anyway, listing him as a priority POI, and listed him for priority surveillance. He didn’t know what an alien special forces operator was doing with their diplomacy team, but he was pretty certain it wouldn’t bode well for him, his ship, or his crew.

Or the treaty either, I suppose.

That was the big issue, of course. In a very real way, the welfare of the ship, the crew, or himself were very distant secondary priorities compared to the treaty.

Ruger didn’t know if a lasting treaty was possible, but that wasn’t his concern either. He was here, in Alliance space, to buy time. Every year, month, week, or day he could purchase for the Human race was worth more than all the gold in the asteroid belts of every human controlled star. SOLCOM wasn’t ready for a prolonged war, they hadn’t been ready for the short war they’d already fought in all honesty. If it came down to a war of attrition, all the guts and skill of the human race would amount to nothing compared to the massive resources of the Alliance.

He was aware of the fallback plan if that came to pass, and he didn’t like it one little bit.

If he failed here and now, SOLCOM intended to surrender to the Alliance upon the resumption of hostilities. No one liked the plan, but it was better to invite them in close, where the Ross hopefully wouldn’t use their planet busters, and only then take them apart.

A guerrilla war, however, would be the undertaking of generations in most estimations. His grandchildren would likely be fighting that way if he failed, so Ruger had no intention of failing. He’d buy the time SOLCOM needed, even if he had to buy it in blood.

*****

“You’ve attracted some attention, Sentinal.”

Kriss didn’t look back, recognizing the voice and tonal qualities quite clearly. The Alliance had many species, but few irritated him so much as the Sin Fae. Pale skinned, the species had developed on a world that most people would have given up for worthless at first glance. And second, to be honest. The Sin Fae didn’t have much choice, however, since they’d been born there.

The planet was a perpetual twilight by most species standards, giving the Sin Fae the opportunity and necessity to develop eyesight beyond their contemporaries in the Alliance, along with a habit of skulking in the shadows that made them particularly adept at Intelligence gathering.

Most of the species were known as traders and commerce masters, but those few who entered Alliance service almost all trended to the Intelligence service.

Lucians had little use for them, backstabbing liars they tended to be, but Kriss would admit that they missed little when they put their minds, and eyes, to a situation.

He cocked his head just slightly, indicating that he was listening.

“You should have left that toy of yours in your barracks, I believe,” The Sin Fae told him softly, “these Terrans have noticed it.”

“Good,” Kriss growled, low and just barely audibly, “That was the point.”

“So you want them watching you, judging you, looking for a chance to discredit or kill you?” The Sin Fae asked mockingly.

“better they watch me than you, shadow thief.”

There was a silence, then the Sin Fae responded with a grudging respect, “Maybe you’re not as stupid as you appear. Unlikely, though that may be.”

Kriss gritted his teeth, shifting back ramrod straight to make it clear that the conversation was over.

The Sin Fae didn’t seem to notice, which was blatant crap if ever there was such, merely chuckling softly behind him.

“The human female in black knows you.”

That caught his attention, making Kriss shift again, “Unlikely.”

“Oh, she does. She’s avoiding looking at you, her eyes slide up or down when she looks this way. She’s trying not to catch your attention.”

Kriss shifted, staring straight at the female he’d noticed earlier. He knew a few humans, in the loosest sense of the word, almost all of them from the ship they’d held in their control for a time. She had to have been from that, since the only other human he’d ever encountered face to face was…

His eyes narrowed, Impossible. Why would they send a Sentinel on guard duty?

“Oh ho!” The Sin Fae practically giggled at his back, “you know her too.”

Kriss ignored the cackling buffoon, knowing it was just an attempt to get him riled so it could get more reads off him. If she were who he thought, however, then the humans were expecting some sort of trouble as well.

Or they’re planning on starting trouble of their own.

There were only so many reasons to send a Sentinel on a duty such as this, and all of them began and ended with trouble of the highest order.

Chapter Six

The Terran ship floated outside the station in full view of the public areas, it was clear that station control had put them in that parking orbit in order to promote the ‘peaceful’ power of the Alliance. So there were gawkers from thirty species, and a few whose interest were just a little more pointed. Two sets of eyes in particularly had a very specific interest indeed.

“There is little we can do yet, they’re keeping the ship well secured and no one has disembarked yet.” The first complained lightly.

“That’s to be expected. At the very least they’ll have to come on station sometime, for negotiations if nothing else. Make sure those go well.” The second ordered calmly.

“Well? But I thought…?”

“If negotiations are going well the Terrans will be more relaxed, they may allow their crew to come on station for leave. That will magnify our opportunities,” The second smiled, “and they may even choose to allow diplomatic tours of their ship. We could easily buy our way onto one of those, I have little doubt.”

“Very well, it will be as you say.”

“Yes. It will.”

There was a silence, until finally the second voice chuckled.

“Don’t look so disappointed, even if neither of those things happen, letting them think things are going smoothly will make it all the more powerful when we drop the singularity on them”

“Yes, of course. I apologize, Master.”

“In the meantime, start the preparations for the secondary plan.”

That caused the first figure to pause, looking mildly stricken, “Master?”

“I know, it’s distasteful, but if they maintain security on the ship we won’t have a choice. A little outrage in the home systems will do our cause well anyway.”

“Yes, Master.”

The second figure watched his now sombre companion move off to follow his orders, looking like he’d been kicked a few too many times. Not that he blamed him, it was always a little distasteful to assassinate one of your own ambassadors, after all.

*****

“They’re playing us, Ambassador.” Ruger said quietly, his voice firm.

“You know that,” Miram Desol countered, shaking her head. “You can’t know that.”

“You don’t tie down an operator to a protective detail unless you’re playing a dangerous game.” Ruger countered, “That’s a fact.”

Desol arched an eyebrow, her gaze focusing on where Major Aida was silently standing. “Oh do tell, Admiral.”

Ruger didn’t take the bait, “That man is a strike leader, he was part of the Hayden battle and he also led the assault that took the America. He’s not a bodyguard, he’s not a cultural specialist like the Major, he’s a soldier. Pure and simple.”

“And what, pray tell, do you suggest I do about it?” She asked, tired.

“Double your security detail, call off the vip tours of the Mexico,” Ruger said, “Go on the station just for meetings, then come straight back here.”

“Unacceptable.” Miram snapped, “We’re trying to broker a treaty here, you’re talking about blatantly showing them that we don’t trust the Alliance.”

“We don’t trust the alliance!” Ruger roared, throwing his hands up.

“That’s beside the point!”

“Ambassador,” Ruger growled, “We’re not here to join this damned alliance, this is about buying time, nothing else.”

“I know my Job, Admiral,” Miram said coldly. “and my job is to buy you all the damn time you need.”

“It’s too risky.”

*****

Sorilla watched the two go back and forth, not even slightly interested in getting into the middle of it. As far as she was concerned they were both right. The truce, the treaty, was necessary. If it weren’t, there was no way she’d have been sent to see if there was any way they could distract the Alliance.

It was cold war politics at their finest.

Two big boys who didn’t dare face each other down directly, so they started digging into each other’s friends instead. Only SOLCOM didn’t have any friends for the Alliance to dig into, and they were a lot bigger than anyone suspected until recently.

That changed the equation.

It wasn’t the old Soviet Union versus the United States, it was something completely different.

They think we’re bigger than we actually are. Bless you Admiral Brookes, you and Valkyrie might have saved us all with your sacrifice.

No, it wasn’t the Cold War, but everyone who mattered truly and honestly believed it was.

Unfortunately it wasn’t the US vs the USSR, no it was the United States versus Iran, Iraq, or any other third world hell hole she’d spent time in. The problem was, SOLCOM wasn’t playing the role of the superpower this time, they were the third world hell hole.

And our only advantage is that the superpower honestly thinks that it’s a fair fight, and they’re scared to throw the first punch.

That made her job all the more vital.

*****

Ambassador Desol was having none of it, and it was driving Ruger mad.

“You’re going to make yourself a walking target range, and I’m not letting that happen.” He told her flat out, “Your job isn’t…”

“Isn’t what? Isn’t to die for my world?” She cut him off with a sharp gesture of her right hand, “I serve SOLCOM, same as you. You take risks to serve, so do I. Don’t tell me how do my job, Admiral.”

Ruger grimaced, “Stop twisting my words, I didn’t mean to imply you’re any less committed than I am.”

“Good, then next time think.” She told him, “This is my job, and I’m going to do my job.”

Ruger closed his eyes, “Madame Ambassador, if you get yourself killed by some alien assassin, we’ll be at war within the week.”

“And if I don’t do my job, we’ll be at war by the end of the year,” She told him, “and you know it, Admiral.”

And there it was.

Ruger slumped, knowing that she wasn’t blowing smoke. The truce was tentative, fragile. It rested largely on the fact that no one seemed to know what the hell happened to Task Force Valkyrie and the Alliance fleet. That lack of knowledge scared the Alliance, hell it scared SOLCOM too, but the alliance had more to lose.

SOLCOM knew they were on the shit end of the stick, the Alliance only believed they were.

Finally he nodded, “Alright, fine, you’ve made your point. I still want security doubled. Aida, you go with them whenever the Admiral is in public.”

“Now hold on a minute!” Swift snapped, stepping into the fray for the first time. “Let’s be straight here, she isn’t qualified for this.”

Sorilla snorted.

That earned her dark looks from Swift and Ruger, but they otherwise ignored her.

“She is a SOCOM operative, highly decorated, and…”

“and not trained in personal protection,” Swift growled, actually cutting the Admiral off.

Sorilla pursed her lips, not quite whistling, but he had to give Swift credit for sheer balls. Either that or he was dumber than she thought he was, which she wasn’t certain was possible.

Ruger pinned him with a glare a boot camp washout would have read as a warning to shut the hell up, but Swift just ignored it entirely.

“My team is the best at what we do. We don’t need her tripping us up, screwing our operation. Protection details are delicate jobs, we’re trained for this,” Swift growled.

“He’s not wrong,” Sorilla said quietly, finally opening her mouth. “They taught me in boot camp that stopping a bullet was a bad thing.”

Ruger and Swift both shot her acid glares, but Ambassador Desol laughed outright.

“Can I take it from your decision to enter this conversation, finally, that you have an alternate suggestion, Major?” Miram asked.

“I’ve been made.” Sorilla said simply. “That enemy Operator, he either knows who I am or he’s almost there. They know we’re expecting trouble, no reason for me to be here otherwise, same way we know they’re expecting trouble.”

Ruger looked sharply at her, “Are you sure he recognized you?”

“He didn’t.” Sorilla said, waving to a screen on the wall.

It lit up, showing the Lucian and a pale thin humanoid whispering in his ear. The Lucian seemed uninterested at first, until the pale speaker said something that caught his attention. His eyes darted directly in Sorilla’s direction, and he stared unabashedly at her for some time.

“Whoever that speaker was, he’s the brains.” Sorilla said, “I’m guessing a behavioral specialist, but it could be anything really. I don’t think I was ever spotted clear enough for the Alliance to have a file on me, unless the Lucian has implants like mine. If he did, though, he should have recognized me himself, and we’ve never found anything that looks like implanted augmentation in any of the bodies we’ve autopsied. No, something tipped the pale one there. We have any idea what species that is?”

“Sin Fae,” Miram answered, shaking her head, “They were in the public brief we got from the Alliance. Traders mostly, merchants, that sort of thing. We don’t have anything more on them, they’re not a particularly important species in the Alliance.”

Sorilla raised an eyebrow, “If that’s the case, why are they represented here?”

Miram shrugged, “The Alliance is a bureaucracy, there could be any number of reasons.”

“Or they might be more important than anyone wants to let on,” Sorilla suggested. “Let’s put that one on the watch list.”

“This is getting complicated,” Ruger scowled.

“Sir, what did you think was going to happen?” Sorilla asked, genuinely confused. “We’re trading punches with a giant that clearly hasn’t figured out either his own strength, or ours. You know this, or I wouldn’t be here. Now this pale fellow, this Sin Fae, I want him on the watch list. I read him as a spook, if ever I saw one. He’s a company man, Sir, I guarantee it.”

“Do you think he’s the one who’ll try and derail the talks?” Miram asked.

Sorilla shook her head, “Maybe but I doubt it. No, he’s likely just the intel weenie assigned to the negotiations. Whatever it is, though, if there’s any trouble coming, I’ll bet that he’ll be somewhere nearby. The Lucian, him, he’ll be right in the middle.”

“And where do you see yourself, Major?” Miram asked, eyes on the other woman in the room.

“For the moment? Tagging along with the meat shields,” Sorilla shrugged, gaining another glare from Swift. “Oh quit it with the moon eyes, Swift, you’re not my type. I’ll be there, but I’ll let them do their job without tripping over me. No offense, Madame Ambassador, if the mission calls for it I’ll stop a round for you, but if we reach that point I’ll consider my mission a failure no matter how it turns out.”

She shrugged, “I won’t step on your toes, Swift. Just think of me as part of the Ambassador’s staff, a warm body that doesn’t have priority.”

“Got that right,” Swift grumbled.

Ruger rolled his eyes, annoyed at the conversation being derailed but at least the issue was settled for the moment.

“If we’re all in agreement, then?” He asked, looking around the impromptu round table.

Receiving no objections, he nodded in satisfaction.

“Good. Aida, you’ll go on station as part of the Ambassador’s protective detail. Do you have any plans yet?”

“Mostly this will be just to get the layout, see how things are shaking down,” She said with a shake of her head. “I’m interested in this merchant species, but I’m also looking for any representatives of species that have problems with the Alliance. For the immediate future, however, my first priority will have to be intelligence gathering. It’s not what I’m best at, but we have too little of it to make plans right now.”

“Alright,” Ruger nodded, looking to the Ambassador, “and you, Miram?”

“You know my priority,” She shrugged, “negotiate a solid truce, try to turn it into a treaty. I’d appreciate it if your military plotting didn’t screw any of that up, but I’m well aware that you’re going to do it anyway.”

Ruger let that pass, there was nothing he could say to please her anyway, and in all honesty she wasn’t wrong.

“We have a plan of action then. Aida,” He said, nodding to Sorilla, “Do your job.”

“Yes Sir.”

*****

“What are your impression, Sienal?”

The Sin Fae rotated his shoulder joints in an elegant motion, indicating a noncommittal response, before speaking.

“It is very hard to tell, the species is very responsive, they have clear body lingual patterns, but we haven’t mapped them all yet.” Sienal answered, “additionally, they are certainly guarded and near to paranoia unless I miss my guess. Not a surprise, given their situation.”

The Parithalian diplomat nodded, “Understandable, I suppose. You have no opinion yet, then?”

“I did not say that, Quarr’a. This is the early game, understand,” Sienel responded, “much may change, but for now I believe that they are mostly sincere in the negotiations to come.”

“Mostly?” Quarr’a asked dryly.

“They’re hiding something, of course, likely many things.” Sienel said simply, “That is the nature of business at this level. My task is to determine just what those things are, and whether they impact your negotiations, but it is far too early to say either way.”

“I understand, do what you can.”

“Of course,” The Sin Fae smiled very slightly, “One thing worth noting…”

“Oh?” The Ambassador looked over, interested.

“They sent a Sentinel, supposedly to protect their Ambassador.”

Quarr’a snorted, “Sentinels are useless for personal protection.”

“Precisely. We know why we have assigned Sentinels to the Station, and one to your guard,” Sienel smiled slowly, “the question I must answer now is, why have they?”

“Do it. I need those answers, Sienel.”

Chapter Seven

The station was impressive, Sorilla had to admit. She’d lived most of the last year or so on the Tether counterweight station over Hayden, and the Alliance station blew it away in damn near every regard. Orbital tethers had some open spaces, usually where the cargo holds of the ship were before it was turned into a tether station, but she felt that she was walking outside ever since stepping onto the Alliance facility.

She wasn’t sure if it was as big as it seemed, or if there was a little sleight of hand style trickery going on, but her implants indicated that it was likely a combination of the two. That meant a technical sophistication beyond Earth technology, which wasn’t a surprise, but also a certain appreciation for aesthetics that was rare in SOLCOM because most private hulls were repurposed military designs.

They’d shuttled across in a SOLCOM tug, a space only craft intended for moving between larger ships and stations, and had been greeted with all the expected pomp and circumstance upon arrival. Sorilla had been cataloging everything, driving her implants hard enough that the processor was actually warming up slightly.

That hadn’t happened since her new suite had been implanted.

There was so much to take in that she’d hijacked the feeds from the other officers as well, using their processors’ unused cycles to run it all through. It wasn’t something she was technically supposed to be able to do, and when she got back to SOLCOM space she would have to submit a bug report to close the loophole in the system, but for now she needed all the help she could get.

The first thing that she noticed was that most of the alien species that made up the Alliance, at least those being presented for the human visitors, were what she’d classify as humanoid. Two legs, two arms, hands of varying types, opposable thumbs or something equivalent.

As an armchair sociologist and anthropologist, Sorilla wondered what that said about evolution. It was possible, she supposed, that species likely to be recognized by humans as ‘intelligent’ were highly likely to be tool users, and the humanoid form was uniquely suited to developing and using tools.

It might also be, and this was something she considered at least marginally more likely, that the Alliance was putting forward a comforting face on their society.

See? Look at us, we’re not so different, are we?

In either case, it simplified her current task, which was accumulating intelligence on Alliance species and their body language. She needed to assemble a whole new software library for her implants if she wanted to be effective while operating in Alliance space.

Her spectroscopic scanners were also working overtime, analysing everything from the atmosphere provided in the station to the rather toxic bad breath some of the alien species produced.

It was going to be a long day of work, and that was just where it started.

*****

“Madame Ambassador, it is an honor to have you on my station.”

“The honor,” Miram said, smiling pleasantly as she greeted the tall, blue skinned, alien, “is, of course, all mine.”

Parithalians were spindly looking people, the product of a far lighter than Earth gravity environment. The species had the distinction of being the only species in Alliance space, or SOLCOM space for what that was worth, to have mastered heavier than air flight before discovering fire. There was a whole sordid story behind that, but given that they had used naturally occurring Hydrogen for their flying vehicles, the Parithalian Prometheus was something of a quasi-malicious joker in their mythology.

It was all rather fascinating, really, and Miram very much enjoyed reading about the backgrounds of various alien species.

“You, and your people of course, have full access to all public areas of the station,” The Master of Station told her. “Security has been instructed to be available to help in case anyone has difficulties, most of them are at least semi-proficient in English now.”

Miram raised an eyebrow, but nodded graciously, and replied in Parithalia. “Thank you, Master of Station Parath. I have to compliment you on your accent, it’s really quite good.”

She wasn’t the only person to note that, though she was one of the few who wasn’t surprised. Miram had dealt with the Alliance more closely than most already, and she was well aware that they had mastered some form of learning languages, and perhaps more. She didn’t know how it was done, but it only took a few days for an Alliance official to have a working mastery over English in her experience.

“You’ve learned our language,” Parath seemed pleased, if also surprised. “Few do, we mostly speak Sturm here, or Alliance Standard if you prefer.”

She noted that he hadn’t said anything about her own accent, likely out of politeness. She was well aware that it was far from proficient.

“I’ve also learned Alliance Standard,” She assured him, changing back to English. “I didn’t know it had another name.”

“Older name,” Parath twisted his joints up in what she’d come to recognize as a shrug, “Sturm is more the root language, and it more complex than Alliance Standard. It is used as the language of trade and scientists.”

“Like Latin, then.” She murmured.

“Pardon?”

“Don’t worry about it, human history,” Miram shook off her thoughts, “We’ll have to discuss it sometime, though, I would love to see how our history compares to the Alliance members.”

“That would be… very interesting indeed.” Parath said, “in the meantime, however, I believe that we have allowed the Ambassador to wait long enough.”

“Of course,” Miram smiled, “lead on.”

Parath waved security forward, moving the group through the large open spaces of the station. As they moved through the public areas and into more and more secure zones, the number of aliens watching them dropped off and Sorilla both began to relax a little, but conversely move up her alert levels.

Assassinating the Ambassador would now be harder to get away with, the security levels would make escaping difficult, but at the same time if they wanted to trigger a war this would be the time to do it. It would be much harder to blame the incident on dissidents or a grieving family member of someone who died going up against the SOLCOM fleet.

Which assumes that they’re planning an assassination, something I don’t know for sure, Sorilla reminded herself.

All she did know was that the Alliance saw fit to put a front line combat specialist on the job, which only told her that they either expected trouble or they had a complete idiot in their command structure. The idiot theory was comforting, but she was paid to assume idiocy over malicious intent, so for the moment it wasn’t something she was giving much credence to.

They were all admitted to a large room where the Alliance diplomatic team were waiting, so Sorilla joined the Diplo protection detail as they spread out. She picked a spot on the wall where she could cover the entire room and silently settled in.

Across the room she spotted the Lucian doing the same, but Sorilla’s attention was focused more on the Sin Fae she’d noticed earlier. The Lucian was a warrior, straight up near as she could tell. His reactions, and his actions, would likely be predictable. It was the unknown player in the game that interested her most just then.

Her eyes glowed a faint green as she turned her implants on her target, analyzing everything they could detect and recording everything they got that she couldn’t make sense of.

Alright, Elf, Sorilla thought with silent chuckle, What’s your play?

*****

Sienel could feel the human’s eyes on him and silently cursed his decision to inform the Lucian about her the day before. Clearly she’d noticed him when he broke from his position to speak with the Sentinel, and likely his reaction had made Sienel a person of interest.

She, or whoever is controlling her, is good, He thought ruefully.

It had been the sort of slip that would have gone unnoticed in the Alliance, but he should have recognized that many of the conventions that he used to camouflage his actions in the Alliance wouldn’t exist with this new species. He’d gotten complacent and tipped his hand, now he’d have to roll with that and see where it took him.

Despite himself, Sienel found himself becoming somewhat fond of the Terrans. They were a new challenge, something to keep him working to best effect as they forced him to adapt and overcome. Complacency got people killed in his line of work, so anything that shook him out of It was a good thing. Unless, of course, that thing killed him shortly after.

It remains to be seen whether that will be the case with the Terrans.

Sienel casually unfolded his personal computer, looking like nothing more than one of a dozen clerks in the room tapping away self-importantly on their systems, recording the minutia of the meeting as the Ambassadors and other speakers droned on. He was analyzing the Terran positions, however, putting their actions into context and drawing conclusions about them as a species based on the results.

It wouldn’t be completely correct, that was certain, but he’d done it before and would likely do it again. New species weren’t as rare as all that, the Galaxy was a big place and the nature of Jump points meant that sometimes you could be sitting right beside a thriving civilization and not even know it until a new point was discovered, or some new technical advancement opened up new stars for development.

It was the second in the case of the Terrans, the Ross had managed to expand their jump radius by about half a percent. Not much, really, but enough to bring at least eighteen new stars into their direct jump range.

His best research indicated that was likely why the Ross had been granted permission to open up the new frontier. A combination of being the first ones there and they bribed the Alliance central government with the modifications to the jump drive control systems to allow Alliance ships the same half percent edge.

Likely a few less legal and more personal bribes were involved as well, of course.

That was all in the past, however, not his concern. He was here to make sure that nothing got in the way of cleaning the mess up. Finding a new empire capable of slugging it out with an Alliance task force was bad enough, annoying said empire to the point that they made that same Alliance task force simple vanish into the ether, that was something else entirely.

Untill they got a handle on exactly what happened there, no one wanted to tangle with the Terrans uneccesarily.

Almost no one, He thought sourly.

There were always idiots with more money and more greed than sense, focused on the short term rather than the long game. Sienel was well aware that those were his most likely opponents at the moment, but the presence of a Terran Sentinel was confusing the issues just enough to make his head hurt.

His gaze drifted to her, casually as possible, and he examined her for as long as he dared before looking away again.

She looked like most Terrans, which is to say not particularly impressive.

It was clear to him that the species was one that the Alliance Command quietly grouped under ‘extreme tool users’. Most Alliance species were tool users, of course, that was almost the mark of intelligence that could be recognized. Extreme users, however, were a class to themselves.

They did more than use tools, they relied on them. They integrated them into their lives with an almost religious observance and, in extreme cases, practically became the tools and technology they used.

The Ross were one such species, the most dangerous the Alliance had ever located… until now.

Now it was a tossup, at least until they could figure out what happened to the battle fleet.

Sienel was so deep in his thoughts that he almost missed it when the Terran Sentinel… twitched.

*****

Sorilla had most of her implant software running in low priority mode, preserving cycles for the more active work she was doing. One of the processes she’d shunted to as low priority as possible was the gravity analysis code. The hardware was still active, of course, it ran on her own heat and bio-electricity, but it required massive CPU cycles and she hadn’t expected the enemy to be using gravity valves on their own station so it seemed like a safe system to put on the back burner.

With the signals still coming from the detectors, though, she felt a twinge as her mind identified a change in the local environment even faster that her computer would have if it were turned on.

Sorilla dumped her work application and threw open the gravity analysis software to full priority in a split second, already moving as she did. She would have bolted, but bearing in mind where she was she kept her motions calm and purposeful as her eyes fixated on an upper deck that overlooked the large gathering.

It looked empty, but that didn’t mean as much as she’d like.

“Where are you going, Aida?” Swift’s voice hissed in her ear. “Get back in place.”

“Stuff it, Swift. I’m checking something out.” She responded, using subvocal translators and burst transmission instead of speaking aloud. “Standby to get the Ambassador out of here.”

“What the hell? What did you see?”

“Just stand by.” Sorilla killed the reception, but left her feed open as she hopped channels. “Admiral.”

There was a pause before Ruger came back, and when he did she recognized the slight machine quality of his voice as that of a subvocal translator at work.

“Go, Major.”

“Unknown gravity event, located to your three o’clock, high position.” She sent, “am proceeding to investigate.”

“Roger.”

The overlooking balcony was flanked by a pair of curving ramps on either side of the massive room, Sorilla picked the closest and calmly started to climb, waiting until she was out of sight of the others before breaking into a sprint.

She didn’t notice that she wasn’t the only person on the move.

At the top of the spiral ramp, she slowed to a stop and started edging forward as she dropped into a crouch. The gravity pulse had been faint, she was surprised that she felt it without the processor on full actually, but it was easily pinpointed now that she was dedicating all available cycles to the task and it wasn’t very far.

She stopped by the corner, covering there briefly before tipping her head out just enough to get one clean image with the implants before pulling back.

One Tango. Lucian. Assembling an assault weapon?

Sorilla frowned, she couldn’t be sure of the last bit, but it didn’t look like the actions of anyone with pure intentions. Her hand dropped to the holster that held her MTac, but Sorilla hesitated as she considered the full weight of what was at stake.

If she were wrong, she could start a war right here and now, a war that SOLCOM wasn’t ready to fight.

I hate this shit, Sorilla briefly bitched and moaned as her hand fell away from the weapon she carried. I’m a combat trainer, not some damned meat shield bullet stop.

Once that moment of whining was up, however, Sorilla rose to her feet and stepped out into the open with a calm and professional look as she started walking toward the Lucian.

“Excuse me, Sir.” She said in halting Alliance Standard, “do you have clearance to be here?”

*****

Slipping out of a crowded room without anyone being the wiser was a tougher trick than it might seem to some, but Sienel had done it before and had little doubt that he’d do it again in the future. He didn’t alert any of his own people, mostly because his instincts told him that the Terran wasn’t hostile.

He was still getting a handle on Terran body language, but hers had been defensive and surprised. She was reacting, not acting, which meant that she’d noticed something no one else had. That alone was enough for him to take note and decide to investigate on his own recognizance.

On his way out of the room, Sienel glanced at the Terran contingent and noticed that they’d all shifted to varying alert levels. So those pulses we detected are communications. I wonder if it’s a simple pulse code or something more sophisticated? No matter, that can wait.

Once he slipped out one of the side doors all pretense at stealth was forgotten as he bolted for the upper level access, he needed to see what was going on.

“Sentinel Kriss.”

“What is it, Fae?” The gruff voice of the Lucian came back after a brief pause.

“The Terran Sentinel has moved to the upper level, I think she noticed something. I’m taking the side access behind you, heading there myself. I would appreciate some friends at my back, as it were.”

“On their way. Watch yourself, Fae. That one is dangerous.”

“That is precisely why I want to see her in action, Sentinel.”

Sienel paused as he arrived near the top, quietly sneaking a look around the corner. He scowled as he spotted a Lucian he didn’t know, who was clearly assembling a pulse weapon.

Where the hell are the Sentinels? Sienel instantly started to worry since he knew that he was no match for a Lucian, even one who wasn’t a Sentinel.

The thought that this was a Sentinel action didn’t even occur to Sienel, the Lucians were far too rigid in their discipline for that and not remotely sneaky enough to play both sides. Still, they had their occasional rogues, same as any other species.

“Kriss,” He hissed softly, “We have a rogue Lucian here, with a precision pulse cannon.”

“What!?” The Lucian’s roar in his ear made Sienel wince. “I’m on my way.”

“You’d best hurry… oh… my.” Sienel stammered as the Terran stepped out into the open and calmly began to approach the Lucian, speaking to him in Alliance standard and asking him for his clearance of all things.

“What? What is it?”

“The Terran just arrived.”

“Good. Let her kill him.”

“She’s walking right toward him and talking,” Sienel hissed.

“What? No! Warn her!”

Sienel started to step out, but he was too late as the Lucian exploded into motion.

*****

Sorilla killed the gravity processes on her CPU, transferring the cycles over to the kinetic and combat analysis software as she calmly walked right at the armed and certainly dangerous alien.

He looked at her, clearly surprised by her action, and that let her close the distance a little more before he could react.

“This is a secure area,” He actually stammered a little, “I have to ask you to leave.”

Gutsy, trying to bluff his way through, Sorilla noted, her evaluation of him going up a notch. I’d like to have him in my courses.

She made it three more steps before she spoke, “Ambassadorial security. I need your clearance, please.”

The Lucian had an expression then that she didn’t recognize.

Anger? Frustration? She wasn’t sure, could have been anything. Maybe he just didn’t believe anyone would be as completely stupid as she was being right now.

Then his posture shifted to something she, and her implants, did recognize.

When the Lucian attacked, Sorilla was already in motion.

*****

Sienel was already trying to figure out how he was going to explain the death of the Terran in a way that didn’t start the very war he was attempting to forestall when the Lucian lunged. It should have been over then, no one got that close to a Lucian in combat, no one sane at least, and lived to tell of it.

The blade the Lucian carried was their traditional curved weapon, heavy on the point so it could hack through bone with ease. It hissed just audibly as it slid from the hidden scabbard and sung through the air as it carved an arc aimed at the Terran’s skull.

Sienel was shocked when the Terran didn’t blink, didn’t freeze, didn’t even jump back in surprise. She just went down, slipping under the blade, and stepped in even closer.

*****

The blade whistled over her head as Sorilla ducked the slash and stepped into the attack, throwing her shoulder into the alien’s before bringing her knee up to his midsection.

SOLCOM had done a fairly extensive study on alien physiologies from captured bodies, many of which Sorilla had personally provided, so she had an idea of their weaker spots. For Lucians, unfortunately, that was something of a relative term.

Her knee stunned him momentarily, but without her armor Sorilla knew she wasn’t a match for the alien in a straight up slugging match. Lucians’ were the only species they’d yet encountered that could go toe to toe with OPCOM armor and have the fight boil down to skill against skill. Compared to that, Sorilla knew she was a toddler tangling with an adult.

Maybe an early teen, Sorilla grinned as she through both hands into a block against the arm that was bringing the knife back in a reverse stab. She was using leverage against him, denying the Lucian the chance to bring his full strength into play by keeping the fight at sub-point blank range. Everyone had their comfort zones for fighting, most people preferred to keep a distance if possible, but almost nobody truly enjoyed tangling with an opponent who was so close you were passing the same breath of air back and forth.

Lucian’s didn’t have a soft spot on what passed for their nose, so she skipped the headbutt she’d normally lead with here, particularly since she wasn’t wearing her helm at the moment. Instead, Sorilla wrapped her elbows around his head, holding his tight, before proceeding to slam one knee strike after another into the still somewhat stunned alien.

It was close in, dirty, and downright dangerous fighting for both sides, but it was effective and before he managed to break free and shove her back, the Lucian was bleeding from the face and clearly favoring his left side while cradling his ribs.

Sorilla hit the ground in a roll, coming back to her feet a couple meters from the alien as he went for his gun.

*****

Sienel waved the Sentinels back as Kriss and the detachment assigned to him came charging up the ramp.

“Quiet, all of you,” He hissed, “I want to watch this.”

Kriss signaled his men to hold and edged around, eyes widening as he spotted the fight. “She’s still fighting, even without her battlesuit? Impressive.”

He’d salved his personal pride with the fact that the human Sentinels used sophisticated battlesuits to augment their capabilities, but now Kriss was wondering if he’d perhaps underestimated them yet again.

It was clear, however, that despite her ferocious assault the Lucian… whom Kriss unfortunately recognized… was only taking light damage overall. The close in brawl ended when the Lucian slipped out of the Terran’s hold and launched her back with a hard throw.

Kriss noted her successful roll to her feet, but decided it was time to end it when her opponent went for his sidearm. He hadn’t been expecting the terran’s reaction, however. She didn’t duck for cover, she didn’t try to either retreat or draw her own weapon, she charged.

*****

Twenty One feet.

Three words passed through Sorilla’s head as she saw the Lucian go for his weapon. Twenty One feet.

It was the range, within which, an unarmed person could close the distance before you could draw your weapon and fire with reasonable accuracy. It was usually used as an example of when a gunman is in potential danger from a knife wielding opponent, but it worked for any melee opponent facing any long range wielder.

Inside twenty one feet, Sorilla knew not to go for her gun. She might out draw her opponent, she might not. What she knew she could do, without any question, was close the distance before he could react effectively. And right now, she was less than eight feet away.

The Lucian hadn’t even cleared leather, or whatever his holster was made of, before Sorilla closed the distance between them. She made a slight detour, however, and planted her foot on the wall beside him as she vaulted up, and then kicked back off. The spin added to her snap kick slammed her weighted boot into the Lucian’s wrist as he brought his weapon up, and the alien sidearm went flying away.

Sorilla continued the spin, landing on her off foot and snapping around again to send her boot into the Lucian’s head with enough force to snap her own ankles if they hadn’t been supported by the stiff military boot. There was a crackling sound, like cartilage crushing and being separated from bone, and the Lucian hit the ground with a limp thud.

Her implants instantly dropped from red to yellow as Sorilla stepped back, putting range between herself and the fallen Lucian, and only then drew her sidearm.

“Threat down.” She said in the clear, using Alliance standard, eyes coming up to see two figures approaching from farther down the corridor.

She kept her weapon aimed at her fallen foe, but now trained her implants on the two newcomers as she began looking for signs that the fight was about to resume.

The lead one, she recognized him as the space elf she’d spotted before, half his hands up.

“And put down quite nicely,” He told her, speaking better English than her Alliance Standard she suspected, “Nice job.”

“Who is he?”

Now it was the second one, the Lucian she knew from Hayden, who stepped forward. He did not look happy as he glared at the unconscious form on the floor.

“Sentinel drop out,” He growled, “His name is Cora. He almost earned his circlet before murdering a fellow trainee. He is not supposed to be off Luce.”

“Well, I’ll leave that particular investigation to you, Sentinal Kriss.” The Elf shrugged, “Take him into custody.”

Kriss nodded, making a gesture.

Four more Lucians appeared from around the corner, marching over to the slumped form, and calmly dragged him off without a glance at the rest of them.

Kriss looked Sorilla over, eyes narrow, “We have met before, I believe?”

“Doubt it,” Sorilla bluffed, or flat out lied. “Don’t recall leaving many opponents alive in the past.”

Kriss stared at her for a moment, then laughed, “This I believe. Sienel?”

“Go,” The elf said, “I am in no danger here.”

The Lucian Sentinel nodded before he turned and left, leaving Sorilla alone with Sienel.

“You do good work,” He said again, looking idly around as he walked to the overlook and then down on the conference that was still taking place.

Sorilla holstered her weapon and joined him, hands on the rail as she looked down at the assemblage of human and aliens, all still chattering away. She looked down, kicking the alien weapon the Lucian had been assembling over once to examine it. It wasn’t type she’d seen in the war.

“It’s not Lucian,” Sienel said, “that appears to be Ross manufacture, but it was built for external sale.”

Sorilla grimaced, Ross weapons were ugly in any form. She didn’t want to think about what it would have done to the unarmoured people below.

Finally she spoke, “What’s going on?”

Sienel sighed, or that’s what she took it for at least.

“The Alliance has many factions, most do not want war. Some, however, do.” He admitted, “However, I could ask you the same thing.”

Sorilla glanced at him sharply, “How’s that?”

“You are no security person,” He said lightly, “You are clearly Sentinel. Warrior. Why are you here?”

“I go where I am ordered.”

“Yes, this I believe. Why were you ordered here is what I want to know,” He said, his tone a little testy.

“Mine is not to reason why,” She told him blandly, skipping the second part of that line. “or do Alliance people question orders often?”

The Elf looked annoyed for a moment, but settled himself quickly.

“You know that I will be watching you, of course.”

Sorilla shrugged, “I’ve already been watching you.”

Sienel smiled tightly, then tipped his head slightly before stepping back. “I must rejoin my people. I hope that the rest of your duties are not so… exciting as today.”

Sorilla watched him go, slowly shaking her head.

Merchant species my ass, She thought wryly, There goes a spook if ever I saw one.

Chapter Eight

“You better have a good excuse for ignoring me, Major,” Swift growled as the door on the private conference room closed.

They were back on the Mexico, the opening words and negotiations having gone decently well, all things considered. Ruger had called her into the conference room with the Ambassador and Swift as the head of the security detail. Sorilla was only mildly surprised that the admiral hadn’t bothered telling him anything yet.

“A ‘rogue’ Lucian attempted an assassination using a Ross weapon,” She said simply, “I took him out, quietly.”

Swift stared at her blankly for a long moment, but said nothing.

“They tried to kill me?” Miram asked, a little too unemotionally to be good in Sorilla’s opinion.

“Uncertain,” Sorilla admitted.

Now Swift spoke up, “What do you mean, uncertain? Who else would they have targeted?”

“Me, if they know who I am,” Sorilla offered, “I’m probably responsible for the deaths of more Alliance personnel than any other single human, if you don’t count ship to ship combat stats anyway. Or, maybe they were hitting one of their own.”

“Killing the Alliance negotiator or Ambassador would throw the whole situation into chaos,” Miram said, slumping a little before she frowned, “but wouldn’t it be better to use one of our weapons?”

Sorilla shrugged, “they could easily claim it was a war trophy. If you think on it, it makes more sense that way, like we’re trying to throw the blame on the Ross.”

“What did local security say?” Ruger asked, curiously.

“The ‘merchant’ we noticed yesterday told me ‘good job’,” Sorilla said dryly. “And, for the record, merchant race my ass, Sir. That one, at least, is a spook.”

“It’s not a bad cover,” Ruger shrugged, “though I worry that he discarded it so easily. We’ll have to watch for others, don’t get fixated on him, Major.”

“Yes Sir.”

“The most important thing is that the local security and, presumably, the officials here aren’t annoyed with the Major’s actions,” Miram said, “Today went well, otherwise, and we’re nicely on track to ratify the truce by tomorrow.”

“that quickly?” Sorilla blinked.

She’s expected it to take weeks, at least.

“The truce was already agreed on,” Miram waved off her surprise, “We’re just going to sign to what both sides already worked out months ago. Next we’ll see about establishing something a little more substantial, perhaps a light trade agreement. Food, raw materials, something neither of us need desperately, but that will go a ways to establishing some history between us.”

“Ah,” Sorilla said, nodding.

That was more along the lines of what she’d expected, no question.

“Did the Alliance agent drop any hints as to who might be behind the attack?” Ruger asked, scowling in thought.

Sorilla shook her head, “no, but if you think about it the list is probably longer than my jump record.”

“She’s not wrong there,” Swift spoke up, “these sorts of things usually have more suspects than principals. Corporations that produce military goods would love an extended war, we see that all the time. They’re top suspects because it only takes one person to set this in motion, so even decent companies can be dragged down. Then you have random politicians who stand to make a fortune if factories in his jurisdiction get new contracts…”

“Let’s not forget someone could be playing the same game we are,” Sorilla added, “If there’s a dissident movement in the Alliance, or any planet looking to declare independence, dragging us into a shooting war would certainly provide them with a distraction.”

“What worries me most,” Ruger said seriously, “Is that it’s not just one faction, we could be looking at any, or all, of the above.”

That was reason for the group to fall silent for a moment, considering that particular twist on things. The Admiral was right, though, and they all knew it. The only people they could trust right at the moment were other humans, and each of them were cynical enough to know that the only reason that was true was because no one had yet had a chance to be corrupted by the situation.

The day of that particular scenario was coming, and the countdown clock for it was probably much shorter than any of them would like to admit.

“The question is, what can we do about it?” Miram asked into the silence finally, looking around for an answer.

The other three exchanged glances, shaking their heads.

“Not much more than we’re already doing, Madame Ambassador,” Ruger admitted, “We continue the negotiations, we keep eyes and implants wide open and scanning, and we hope that the bulk of the Alliance is negotiating in good faith.”

Miram grunted, looking distinctly unhappy.

“I was afraid you were going to say that,” She said after a long moment.

*****

On the Alliance station a strikingly similar meeting was taking place as the Ambassador sat down with the Master of Station, his security, and Sienel.

“So the reports were accurate. Do we know who the target was yet?”

Kriss nodded, meeting the Ambassador’s eyes, “You were, Ambassador.”

The Parithalian sighed, wishing he felt more surprised. He did not, however, so he had to continue playing what the game had passed to him.

“Well, this is awkward,” He admitted wryly, “starting negotiations while owing my life to a Terran?”

“She was acting to preserve her own detail, Ambassador,” Sienel advised with a tip of his head.

“Yes, yes, of course. Still it is a bit humorous, don’t you think?” The Parithalian asked lightly before becoming more serious, “I presume that you’ve locked security down more?”

“Yes, Ambassador,” Kriss nodded, “I don’t believe that this faction will be a problem in the future.”

“This faction?”

Kriss shrugged, “It’s quite clear that we have several different groups opposing this treaty, for wildly different reasons. Most likely at least one more will attempt something before it can be signed.”

“The Sentinel is, sadly, correct Ambassador,” Sienel said simply, stepping into the discussion, “I expect that the most likely outcome is that the next attempt will be made as we approach the signing, however. Capturing this conspirator will make the others more cautious, I believe they will hope for a time that negotiations will break down on their own.”

“No chance of that,” The Ambassador said simply, “Unless I very much miss my guess, the Terrans are as interested in this as we are.”

“Yes, that was my read as well. Curious, really,” Sienel said, “They annihilated one of our fleets, left no trace… why aren’t they pressuring us harder?”

The group considered that for a moment, but honestly they had no response.

Sienel shrugged, looking a little depressed by the total lack of ideas, “I suppose I am expecting too much. We’re still only beginning to learn their sub-lingual communications, and without a solid understanding of that, we know nothing of them that they do not want us to know.”

“Well hurry up and learn it,” The Ambassador muttered, “as nice as it is to have a reasonable opponent across the table, now I’m going to be driven to utter madness asking myself that question every time they capitulate on one of my points.”

SIenel smiled widely, “A pleasure to give you a taste of my world, Ambassador.”

“Get out,” The Ambassador ordered, humor mixed with disgust in his voice, “All of you, I need my rest before we begin again.”

*****

On the Mexico, Sorilla stared at the ceiling of her room as she sacked out in the narrow bunk.

The situation was playing out differently than she’d envisioned, and she was quickly finding herself in a position to be both more, and less, effective than she had expected. Her job was normally to slip in beneath the notice of the local officials, in this case the Alliance, and find dissidents to leverage into something that she could work with.

Not an easy job as a stranger in some third world country, but at least there she’d been human and most of the places she’d been sent her darker skin and some proper local dress allowed her to blend in decently. Here, she was working at a disadvantage right from the get go.

A disadvantage she’d just had blow up in her face, and now she was being watched by the local security service.

On the flip side, Sorilla thought she could probably play that into a little more access on the official side of things. Too bad that wasn’t her job, nor her specialty.

We need a company man to fart around on that kind of work, I’m a combat trainer damn it.

Still, she could turn that access into a source of information that might help her with her task, if she could play it right.

She just needed to figure out how the hell she was supposed to play it right.

*****

“She’s been identified as a Major Aida.”

“Terran diplomatic security, I presume?”

“Official Alliance reports say so, however the unofficial notes tell a slightly different story.”

“Explain.”

“Sentinal Commander Kriss listed her as a potential Sentinel, but he cannot yet confirm. If she is a Sentinal…”

“Then she is not here as security, unless the Terrans are very different from us indeed.”

“Yes, Master.”

“very well, we have time. Have her followed, see what she does. We may be able to use her presence as the catalyst we need to start this balloon burning.”

“Yes, Master of Fleets.”

Chapter Nine

Sorilla broke with the main group on her second visit to the station, opting to ‘escort’ a minor functionary on his VIP tour of the facilities. She couldn’t learn what she needed to from the inside of a conference room, she needed to see the people. As much of the people as she could, given that she was on a space station that probably catered to the Alliance’s top ten percent.

Some judicious questions, combined with the Admiral’s earlier research, gave her an idea of how the local economy ran. It was what would vaguely be considered socialist on Earth, which didn’t surprise her. On the scale that the Alliance worked, a socialist economy would be unwieldy, inefficient, and likely corrupt… but it would function, if only barely.

Few other types would, from her knowledge of history, due to problems scaling them up.

Communism worked great, up to maybe four dozen people. Libertarianism was a bit better, and could handle thousands before it started to fall apart. Capitalism worked best on scale, but it too began to implode once you moved close to the billion mark or so and began to factor in multiple local governments.

Socialism always sucked, and tended to work like a glacier moving uphill, but it worked at pretty much every scale in the same way. It was reliable, even if you could only rely on it to piss you off and barely get anything done.

The Alliance wasn’t entirely socialist, however, and it didn’t take her too long to figure out why.

While they had money, in the strictest terms, its worth was effectively whatever the Alliance said it was. Plentiful power and basic practical energy to matter convertors had effectively destroyed most commodities trading, if they’d ever had such things, and, like Earth, food was produced in situ where it was needed.

That left tools and luxury items as the only things the average person would ever need to ‘buy’.

Sorilla waited for the group to be moving through a crowded area of the shop promenade before she decided to ‘get lost’ and begin browsing the area on her own. The Alliance races were friendly enough, few of them even bothered giving her a second glance as she moved through, though she supposed that wasn’t much of a surprise given the number of species and the sheer size of Alliance space.

It was likely that you could go your entire life in even a busy Alliance system and not see a representative of every species.

She used a cash card gifted to the Terrans to buy time on the local communications network. Sorilla expected it to be tracked, but that didn’t matter for the moment. She used the time to grab some news clips and stories, glancing over them and setting them to memory in her implants, then did the same as she continued to browse the local equivalent of the internet.

Three times she hit what she was pretty sure was a censorship firewall, blocking her out of what she’d tried to load. Sorilla did a little mental jig each time and made careful note of the place on the network she was looking. Those were pages she wanted to see, once she got an untraceable cash card and some time on a free system.

Find out what they censor, that will give me the things they’re scared of.

Censorship was never about morality, it was about fear. If a people wanted to hide something, it was because that was where you could kick them and make it hurt the hardest. Only a very scared people tried to hide information of any sort, and Sorilla knew that from the censorship she’d encountered through her career.

She’d just located a fourth such place on the network when she felt more than heard or saw someone approach from behind her.

Sorilla memorized the location and turned to see the space elf walking calmly toward her with what she thought was probably a knowing looking on his face.

“Get lost… Major, is it?” Sienel asked.

“Why yes, actually. It was terribly crowded, I got separated from the group,” Sorilla shrugged, “Decided to try and find an information page.”

“Of course,” he smiled thinly, seemingly amused. “Why don’t I escort you back to the Terran contingent.”

“Thank you,” Sorilla said, “I’d be very grateful.”

“I have no doubt,” He said, gesturing, “This way.”

The two started walking across the public area, and Sorilla couldn’t help it.

“So, just curious,” She asked, “but how long were you watching me?”

“Me personally, or someone working for me?”

“Either.”

“The whole time,” He answered candidly, “I’m sure you’re not surprised.”

“Of course not, I guessed that even if there wasn’t someone watching me they’d find me quickly once I used this,” Sorilla held up the cash card.

“Likely,” Sienel nodded, “though I believe that quite a few of those were given out, so they’re only being monitored in a general sort of way. We didn’t know who would receive them, you see.”

Sorilla smiled, “And now that you know this is mine?”

Sienel shrugged, “nothing changes. By tomorrow you will have traded with someone, no?”

“No, probably not,” Sorilla shrugged, she honestly didn’t see the need. If she needed to truly get lost on the station, she wouldn’t use a card at all.

There would be another economy, there always was. Under the table, cash or trade only. In this case, probably some form of barter system. Sorilla was familiar with barter economies, they were somewhere between communes and libertarian ideals in terms of effectiveness, and she’d been immersed in enough of them to know her way around.

“Of course,” Sienel said lightly as they walked, “still, if you’d wanted to explore all you had to do was ask.”

“I’m more of a beg forgiveness kind of girl.”

“Pardon?” The slim alien looked genuinely perplexed by her statement, “You do not seem the sort to beg for anything.”

Sorilla grinned, then quoted, “It is better to beg forgiveness than to ask permission.”

Sienel considered that for a moment before nodding slowly, “Ah. Yes, that does fit my impression of you.”

“Damn right.”

“You could at least have waited until after we were officially no longer at war before begging forgiveness, however?” He told her with a slight scowl, “The truce has yet to be signed, as I recall.”

Sorilla actually managed to look a little sheepish, a feeling she’d not felt since boot camp, or near enough.

“That’s actually a fair point,” She admitted, “you know, if I hadn’t gotten lost accidentally.”

“Yes, accidentally,” Sienel almost made her laugh when Sorilla could have sworn he’d rolled his eyes. “Try to schedule any further accidents for after the signing, if you please. You are technically still an enemy combatant, and by the strictest interpretations of the rules of warfare, I’m required to shoot you.”

“I’ll do my best,” Sorilla answered dryly, “as a favor to you, of course.”

That was the first time she had ever heard an Alien laugh.

*****

Admiral Ruger looked up as his subordinate was escorted into the room by the alien they’d identified as the local spook. He remained silent as the Major walked quietly over to a free seat and settled in. He opened a direct link and activated his subvocal systems.

“How long before they were on you?”

Sorilla didn’t look over at him, but a burst returned in short order.

“They never got off me.”

Ruger nodded, “As expected. Chances of advancing mission goals?”

“Not my field. We need a spook.”

“We have you.” Ruger told her.

He noted Sorilla snort softly, shaking her head. Strictly speaking he’d just lied to her, and she probably knew it. They didn’t want to expose their infiltration experts before they had enough data to give them a fighting chance. That was one reason they were leading with Major Aida.

She was unlikely to manage any significant infiltration, but that wasn’t really what anyone wanted from her. Ruger and his team needed every hand they could get gathering basic intelligence on the Alliance.

He wasn’t looking for classified data, military strategies, or anything of that nature. What Ruger desperately needed was vital information like the median income for Alliance citizens, what their favorite entertainment was, and what sort of news was being fed to them. It seemed like insignificant data, but if you wanted to send in an infiltrator, it was data you needed to know.

The Major could poke around, flailing wildly while being watched, and get all that for them without and serious suspicion. She was also uniquely qualified to analyse the information on site and prioritise objectives based on what she learned. She was a cultural specialist who had trained her entire life to spot weak points in a cultural psyche, then strike them precisely and cleanly to shatter a people’s soul if that was what it took.

“I got on the local network for a few minutes.”

“Anything interesting?” He asked.

“Mostly still translating, but I have some network addresses for censored material.” She admitted.

“Good. Store them, I’ll make sure that anyone who gets a chance sees if they can’t access it.” Ruger said.

“Yes sir.”

“How about your new buddy?”

Sorilla was silent for a moment, her gaze moving across the room until it settled on Sienel for a moment.

“Cordial.” She said finally, “He knows I’m looking, but isn’t overly concerned by it. I suspect that the Alliance isn’t concerned with any of these data, they’d probably hand it over if the Ambassador asked.”

Ruger considered that, “So why stop you?”

“He’s testing me, Sir.” Sorilla admitted, “Looking to see how far I’ll go, and just how good I am at gathering intelligence.”

Ruger considered that, but wasn’t terribly surpised.

The Alliance knew they had a Terran agent in their sights, but for the moment there wasn’t anything really secret at play. It made sense to bird dog her, throw up roadblocks, and watch her react. It would give them a baseline for dealing with future agents.

Smart.

“Good,” Ruger said, “Let them see how good you are, Major.”

“Sir?”

The Admiral smiled as he processed his next sub vocal burst transmission, “Major, no disrespect, but you’re not an agent. Any baseline they get from you is going to be skewed all the hell. I’ll make sure we use that when the time comes, in the meantime… play the game.”

“Yes sir.”

Ruger noticed her do a data dump to his systems, mostly information she’d grabbed in her brief time on her own, then sign off.

The opening moves of the game had been played, more or less as expected. Leading with a Knight like the Major instead of a Pawn was somewhat unorthodox, but Ruger was confident that the Alliance didn’t want to move this game to higher stakes just yet. He could use her to probe the intelligence battlefield without undue risk.

If he were wrong, well, she was expendable. Valuable, yes, but there were a great many others on Earth with her skillset. Her experience was somewhat unique, but it could be replaced in the worst case.

Still, he didn’t think it would come to that. The Alliance was trying playing the same soft opening game he was. They were in the polite stage of Intelligence contacts and data gathering.

Time would tell if it became a cutthroat game of spy vs spy or the more statesman like intelligence game played between opponents who had at least a modicum of respect for one another. It could even become both, in time, Ruger was going to be very interested to see that indeed.

*****

It was odd, distinctly so, for Sorilla to be sitting in the conference room and actively tuning out the speakers. Normally, when she was in such a situation, the intelligence being bandied about was too important to ignore, no matter how much it bored her. Most of this was just pleasantries and general diplo-double speak.

She focused instead on translating what she’d grabbed from the network, along with the conversations she’d recorded from everyone she passed.

It was all just normal stuff, of course, she hadn’t expected anything planet shattering. People bitching about their day, talking about the latest show they watched the night before, and other water cooler conversations.

The network dump was about the same, entertainment listings, a public board, a whole bunch of personal pages, and some news stories. More or less the same thing she’d get from a random sampling of the internet, assuming she had a porn filter turned on.

That didn’t mean that none of it was interesting, however.

She heard a man bitching about taxes, another complaining about some new Alliance regulation, both were things that while normal, were also potentially valuable. She also caught a petty thief on her implants, watching him lift cards from three people without getting caught. Sorilla opened a file just for him, putting his image there for the recognition algorithms to dig into.

A local underworld contact was always useful.

The network material held a few true gems, however, Sorilla found. The news stories were first, and easiest to translate. They spoke of unrest on three ‘local’ worlds, though she couldn’t determine what the Alliance considered local. Still, at least one story reported a bombing, and that was just the sort of detail she’d been sent to find.

Bombs were generally the tools of cowards or the desperate. Those who either had no stomach for looking their opponents in the eyes, or those who were so outclassed that honor had become a dangerous and entirely unaffordable affectation.

She and SOLCOM had some small use for cowards in this scenario, but the desperate? They were precisely who she had been sent to find.

She’d been desperate, more times than she cared to remember, and knew that it took a certain level of real oppression to bring out violence from desperation. It wasn’t always intentional oppression, but it had to be there, and where there were the oppressed… well, that was a place she could carve out a place for herself and her fellows.

Sorilla flagged the files, along with planet names, and sent them on to the Admiral to see if any of his people or the Ambassador’s staff could surreptitiously wrangle a stellar location out of the locals.

She now had three worlds on her vacation list for the near future.

*****

“What did she access?”

Sienele looked over the shoulder of the young technician he had scanning the records, eyes on the display as the tech continued to work.

“It appears to be a fairly random sample of pages from the local portal,” The technician said, “some censored material was blocked, based on her cash card ID, but even that wasn’t anything significant. A few news reports, mostly local events aside from those bombings in the disputed worlds last night.”

Sienel hummed noncommittally to himself, leaning back. Those reports were the only thing remotely sensitive she’d accessed, and frankly they were on nearly every portal at the moment so he’d have been more surprised if she hadn’t seen them.

“Just asteroid scanning, then,” He said, referring to the habit of many civilians who would spend time scanning the rocks in a system, looking for materials that were cheaper to mine than to convert from reactor energy.

“Appears so, Sir.”

That, and probably testing our response times, Sienel admitted to himself.

Subtle, this one wasn’t. Still, she’d gotten some general intelligence from him without flipping much back, so he might be doing her a disservice.

No, He considered it for a moment before deciding that he probably wasn’t.

She was far from unskilled, there was no question about that, but every read he had on her for the moment was that she was a warrior, not a spy. That bothered him more than a real spy would, however, because he couldn’t fathom just why the Terrans sent her.

He would not have sent a Sentinel to gather intelligence, that would like setting a hunting beast loose in a shop to pick out a pet for your child. You might actually get what you wanted, but if so it would only be because the beast finally stuffed itself enough to leave one pet left alive in the whole place for you to pick from.

It was driving him to madness, actually, because the things he could imagine sending a Sentinel for… didn’t match his reads on the Terrans or this Major Aida. Which meant that either they were much better at hiding their cues from him than he believed, or they had another use for a Sentinel, a use he was unaware of and couldn’t imagine.

Frankly, Sienel didn’t know which unnerved him more.

He was well aware of which scared him more, however.

Chapter Ten

Soun was young by his species way of measuring such things, but in the Alliance age was a fairly relative concept. Many species were such that they might generously be considered immortal, if not in the strictest sense of the word, and almost all lived a respectable span of time.

Immortal, however, didn’t mean everyone led a charmed life.

He’d been on his own since he was very young, by almost any standard, and while the Alliance provided for the basic needs of its citizens, sometimes the definition of basic got stretched, spindled, and occasionally mutilated.

He’d been a thief almost as long as he’d been on his own, and the station was his personal fiefdom. It was a good life, by his own estimation, if one that occasionally got more than a little tense. The local authorities were soft on non-violent crime, however, and generally as long as he kept the right people on his side he was untouchable.

At the moment, however, Soun couldn’t quite shake the feeling that he was being watched.

It wasn’t the local constabulary either, or even the copious number of military security that had recently flooded the station and put a crimp in his lifestyle.

No, it was the new species, the ones who were escorted everywhere.

Everytime he’d look up, Soun would spot one of them look away from him, that strange glow in their eyes almost invisible, but he’d seen one or two up close enough to know he wasn’t imagining things. Still, before the end of the day he was feeling more than a little paranoid and couldn’t help but wonder if he was imagining their attentions.

That thought was put to ground when he felt one of them brush up against him and only long experience kept Soun from reacting visibly as he felt a professional drop slip something into his pocket.

A new species on the station, rumors of a war in the sector, one that brought up a lot of military traffic over the last few cycles, and all kinds of other whispers settled and clicked into place for him right then. Soun didn’t check what was in his pocket, not for a few minutes while he looked to see if any of the station’s keepers had eyes on him.

There were enough of them around, for sure, but they only had eyes for the new species.

So he checked the drop that had been made in his cloak, noting with some admiration that they’d even slipped it into one of the hidden pockets he used to sneak things past the patrols. The contents, though, they surprised him just a bit.

He was holding a half dozen station issued cash cards, the kind that could be tracked. Soun didn’t need to read the note to know what they wanted.

Clean cards.

Most Cash cards held the value on the network, where it was safe and secured by the Alliance banking laws. If anything happened, somehow, it was guaranteed by the bank, the guarantor, and the Alliance itself.

However, a clean card held the information currency directly on the card. Lose your card, damage your card, somehow erase your card? You lost your cash.

Some people preferred them, they were marginally less expensive to use, there were no charges associated with a clean card. No interest rates, no service fees, and so forth. The biggest use, however, was for travellers moving between sectors of the Alliance, beyond the range of realtime FTL communications, and among the criminal class and other underworld types.

Like himself.

Soun scanned the cards quickly, tallying up the totals, and considered his position. The new species were clearly sophisticated enough to understand how the game was played, that spoke volumes since he doubted that any of their criminal class were on board.

That meant spies.

Better ones than the locals, he had to admit, far better than the local law enforcement as well. They were on par with the rumors of the Alliance core agents, but he’d never met any of them in person that he knew of.

So, now he had a decision, and it wasn’t a small or simple one.

The cash was good, he could clean the cards and net several times what he’d give them, or he could dump the cards and walk away. The thought of keeping the cards didn’t even pass through his mind, anyone good enough to identify him and slip him the cards as they did were too good for him to screw over.

Soun pulled a clean card from his pocket, idly flipping it over a couple times as he walked across the shopping promenade. He walked passed one of the new species, one that caught his eye with a look. Soun dropped the card under an advertisement flyer for a local eatery, within reach, then he just kept on walking.

He didn’t even look back to see the card being retrieved.

Soun doubted it would be the last time.

*****

“Did you get it?”

The man nodded, producing a card from his pocket and handing it over to Admiral Ruger. “The Major’s ID of the man was spot on, clearly a low level pick pocket, but smart enough to stay under the radar and understand what we needed.”

“Assuming he didn’t screw us.” Ruger said dryly, accepting the card.

“Possible, Sir,” The young man, one of SOLCOM’s Intel Agents, said, “but minimal risk in this case.”

“The Major might disagree.”

The Agent shrugged, “it was her plan for the most part. She understands the risks, and if she’s burnt it’s a minimal loss. Unlikely they’ll kill her, not during negotiations. Most likely is they’ll declare her non grata and kick her out. Better her than a trained agent, she doesn’t need to be acceptable to the Alliance to do her job.”

Ruger grunted, but that was true enough.

Aida was a combat trainer, specializing in guerilla tactics, not an intel agent by any stretch of the imagination. If she were caught while doing her real job, it wouldn’t matter much if the Alliance had already booted her out. They can’t generally hang you more than once, after all.

“Alright, good job.” Ruger nodded, “I’ll get this to the major. You know what to do.”

“Yes sir, now that we’ve begun cultivating local contacts, the job is about to get interesting,” The Agent smiled.

“Just don’t screw up the peace treaty negotiations.” Ruger warned, “We’re not looking for a war with these people. Not now.”

“I know my Job, Admiral, trust me.”

After the man had left, Ruger just shook his head.

“Trust an Intel Weenie, that’ll be the day.”

*****

“reports from central worlds.”

Sienel nodded, accepting the data plaques, “Thank you.”

He dropped the data into his personal system as the messenger left, calling up the basic information overview as he got to work. Station security was having the very abyss of a time keeping track of everything since the Terran’s arrived on station. Despite all attempts, rumors about them had slipped out.

As it always was, those rumors ranged from pure fantasy to frighteningly accurate, which generally make security a nightmare. For the moment they’d kept most of the more disruptive elements of Alliance society out of the system by instituting nesting jump point patrols and rerouting ships around the sector.

That didn’t do much good for those already in the area, of course, and that was his job to deal with.

There were always elements within the Alliance, and without, who actively dredged up the worst of the feelings each of the Alliance species had for one another. Not everyone in the Alliance were friends, and damn few had begun as such even if they were today. No, there were more species like the Ross, in actuality, and it was child’s play to stir up trouble among the more extreme members of any given race.

With rumors of the Terrans filtering out, especially since the war had been impossible to keep secret even if they’d been insane enough to try, all of those were going to come out of the woodwork.

Some would be looking for allies within the Terran contingent, others would just be trying to sabotage the negotiations, and more than likely there would be a handful of the more insular conservative extremists who’d take a shot at the Terrans just on general xenophobic principals.

At least we managed to keep the GinSan from getting here, Sienel sighed to himself.

While a very pleasant species to deal with, the GinSan were extremely liberated in sexual terms. Few species were ready to deal with the things they considered a pleasant way to spend an afternoon. Ironically, he suspected that the free sexual mores of the GinSan had probably destroyed more treaty negotiations than assassins had.

Diplomats expected assassins, they knew how to deal with them mentally. The Gin, on the other hand, tended to do far more than merely creep out most sapients.

His agents had been working with the station’s teams to keep an eye on the Terrans, but Sienel was experienced enough to know that no surveillance was ever perfect. That held particularly true when you were dealing with people who knew they were being surveyed and were actively working to evade you. They’d lost track of several of the Terrans over the last couple days, never for very long and always clearly by some sort of accident or happenstance.

That alone is proof enough that they’re evading my agents, Sienel sighed. Every time there was clear evidence of some innocent accident that happened to put his agents out of contact for a time.

If it were really accidental, there would be a few times where the evidence was less solid. No, Sienel was experienced enough to know that he was being played. That was alright, though, he was playing back.

It was all par for the course right now, this shadow dancing as the diplomats continued their bickering. The long game would be played out in the shadows, won or lost there, that was the way of things. It was a different kind of warfare, one where flashy victories were meaningless and you only knew if you’d won or lost the war when the final star sang.

So far, though, if he were pressed to give an evaluation of the opening moves, Sienel would grudgingly admit that the Terrans were ahead on points.

*****

Ruger found the Major in the Mexico’s armory, standing face to face with the silent and imposing OPCOM armor she normally wore. He wondered briefly what precise thoughts were running through her mind as she stared into the blank helm of the powered armor, but honestly he figured he could probably guess without much trouble. It was a hard thing to adapt to fighting a very different kind of war, he knew that too well.

“Miss it?” He asked, coming to a stop behind her.

Aida straightened and pivoted on her heel in an action so smooth that Ruger knew she had to have been plotting it the entire time he’d been approaching. Surprising an OPCOM operator wasn’t a healthy thing to do, however, so he was happy to accept the salute and return it in kind.

“As you were.”

“Sir,” Aida nodded, relaxing. She glanced over her shoulder at the armor and he could almost see her mentally sigh, though she did nothing of the sort physically. “Just… this isn’t what I’m trained for, Admiral. I should be on the ground.”

“You are on the ground,” He told her, “this war has shifted. Right now we’re in the process of cooling down a very hot war and, probably, shifting to start fighting a very cold one. Your analysis of the enemy may be the foundation that determines whether we live or die.”

“I know that, Sir,” She said, “don’t worry. I’ll do my job.”

“never doubted it,” Ruger said, extending his hand out with the cash card held in it.

Sorilla took it, flipping it over and noting that he was completely blank and very unlike the ones she’d been issued from the Alliance. “Clean?”

“Supposedly.”

Sorilla snorted, “I’m the guinea pig, then?”

Ruger nodded, “You’re expendable. Not nice to say, but if the decide to toss you out on your arse, you’re a small loss to our intelligence initiative.”

“And if they decide to shoot me as a spy?” Sorilla asked mildly, not that she was really complaining. That was the risk she’d accepted along with the assignment.

“Unlikely, they want this treaty as badly as we do,” Ruger said, “More likely they’ll declare you persona non grata and toss your butt out… but if they don’t track you, then we know we have a probable reliable contact in the local criminal class.”

Sorilla nodded, knowing how valuable that would be. “Fair enough. I’ll try it out tomorrow if I can slip the watchers.”

“We’ll arrange some confusion, give you a few minutes.” Ruger said, “security will be on you quick though…”

Sorilla shook her head, “Don’t. I’ll arrange my own slip.”

“Are you certain?”

“Yes Sir.”

Ruger nodded, “Alright, I’ll leave it to you then. You know what you’re looking for?”

Sorilla just rolled her eyes before she could get a grip on the reaction, “Admiral, Sir, remember why I was sent.”

He smiled slightly, “Alright. Go get em, Major.”

Sorilla saluted again, “Yes Sir.”

*****

It was disappointing that their first plan had failed so spectacularly, but that was why they’d opted to use a disenfranchised Lucian as the assassin. He was one of very few who left the homeworld of their own accord without being part of the Lucian military. Most of those were troublemakers and generally considered to be less than honorable by their fellow Lucians, so his involvement wouldn’t raise an eyebrow. Not without more evidence connecting him to his handlers, and they’d made certain that no such evidence existed.

No, for the moment they were covered, but it still left them with a treaty to blast from its moorings before it could be properly secured.

The cleanest method was still eliminating the Alliance ambassador, but now that security had been alerted to the very real existence of a plot to strike at the proceedings they’d tightened up considerable. Not that they were particularly loose before, but now it was clear that they were fully expecting more trouble and they were no longer treating the situation as a standard assignment.

That would make things messy.

Messy or not, however, there was a job to be done and it would be done regardless of the collateral damages.

“Are the teams ready?”

“They are being readied, Primus. Not long now.”

The being in charge growled, “What is taking so long?”

“Moving them into the sector through the increased patrols took longer than we calculated, however they’re in place now and will be ready shortly.”

“Fine.”

He wasn’t happy with it, but it was better to take the extra time and not be caught. The mission being identified wouldn’t be the end of the galaxy, but it would be a hitch in his personal advancement so he’d certainly like to avoid that if possible.

The new teams wouldn’t be as clean as the Lucian, unfortunately. They would have the virtue of strength in numbers and redundancy, however, so he was confident of accomplishing his ends.

Even if it cost the entire station in the process.

Still, that did mean it was time to leave.

“Kelan, prepare my transport. I have a desire to be in the central worlds.”

“Yes, Primus. It will be ready to leave within the tenth.”

*****

Sorilla looked at her dress uniform where it was hanging in her small shipboard closet. She felt like she’d been skinned and left naked, which was more than a little ironic since she actually didn’t feel naked when she was naked.

She was wearing what passed for civilian garb among the Alliance, one particular sampling of it at least. They’d picked the clothing of a near humanoid species that tended to prefer voluminous coverings of material they could fake close enough on board ship.

Now the trick will be to give the watchers the slip when we’re back on the station.

Sorilla could feel the familiar rush of nerves as she shifted and tested the range of her new clothing. She’d done this before, several times, and it was both a rush and something that scared her deep down. Infiltrating a new culture, under the guns of the enemy, was always a challenge even when you had decent intelligence.

This time, however, she had basically no intelligence, just some observational data from the last few days and the previous diplomatic visit. She’d been reviewing it ever since she received the assignment, but it was all just observational, she knew how the aliens acted in public but nothing at all about why.

Sorilla was a lot of things.

She was a combat specialist, a combat trainer, but actually more importantly she was a cultural expert. The Special Forces had trained her not only how to kill and teach others to do the same, but it was more important to understand who she was teaching so that she knew how to teach them. It also had the effect of allowing her to fade into almost any culture on Earth, her general physical traits being such there that she could pass for almost any race with little trouble.

Here, well, long term infiltration was right out the airlock.

Sorilla pulled on some loose fitting coveralls over the garb, checking that she had it all covered. She looked a little pillowy when she was done, particularly in the chest. Sorilla smirked at her reflection in the mirror, noting that she’d never looked so large up top in her life.

Too bad there’s no one on station to appreciate the upgrade, She thought humorously as she finished patting herself down to smooth out the rumples.

The biggest problem was that she wouldn’t be able to carry into the station, her local ID would only allow her to pack weapons while acting as security for the Diplo Team. If she tried to sneak around with them, Sorilla had no doubt that station security would pick her up in short order. The stations in SOLCOM space could pinpoint a weapon in fifty different ways, so she had to assume the same here.

No uniform, no weapon, this op has fun written all over it.

Chapter Eleven

The shuttle slipped into the Station’s bays easily, landing with the light touch of a man who was determined to prove just how good his service was at what they did. The diplomatic team stepped off with the full entourage and were again greeted by the local detail. Pleasantries and general empty phrases were exchanged as they moved along toward the conference room.

It had become a daily ritual, and the whole of the station was familiar with it by now.

People became familiar with things very quickly, slipped into routines. It was pretty clear to the Terran delegation that the member races of the Alliance were no different in that respect. When they first arrived, people stood well back and watched from a safe distance, but within a couple days they barely noticed the procession.

Now the people around the station had to be told to move aside by the security teams leading the group, something they did with grudging reluctance now.

Moving that many people through an even greater number of people was always a challenge for both security and efficiency. Someone always objected a little more vociferously than the rest, making a little trouble for the procession. When that happened, everyone inevitably looked toward the confrontation, even if just for a second.

That was when Sorilla stepped to the left and into the thickest part of the crowd she could find.

It took less than thirty seconds to vanish from sight, but she didn’t relax or slow down at that point. She crossed back and forth through the crowd, following the path of least resistance. Sorilla knew that pushing through the crowd would leave a trace for the watchers to follow, so she left as little of a ‘wake’ as possible. That was made all the harder by her pulling the coveralls off after she moved. The bunched up robes underneath made things difficult, but she’d had worse to deal with in the past. It took only seconds to vanish the SOLCOM operator and become what she hoped would be a reasonable facsimile of an alien civilian.

She stepped back out from the crowd a minute after vanishing, body and face covered in the flowing robes as she began walking through the crowd. She followed the diplomatic group, pacing them in case she’d been missed already. The last place searchers would look for a missing person was right next to the place they’d gone missing from.

There didn’t seem to be any commotion, however, so either she’d slipped away successfully or else they’d left her a little rope to hang herself with. Either way, she had a task to perform and that meant she had to act as though she’d escaped clean.

*****

“She’s missing.”

Sienel pinched his face, wanting to yell or curse, but honestly he wasn’t nearly as surprised as he wish he would have been.

“How can she be missing, there are no other Terrans for her to hide among,” He said slowly, trying not to sound too much like he thought the people under him were morons.

“We’re not sure, there was a commotion in the promenade and we lost sight of her for a moment, then she was gone.”

Sienel chuckled, darkly but still with humor.

“Nicely played, Sentinel.” He acknowledged before turning to his subordinates, “Find her. Don’t approach, don’t be seen, but find her and contact me immediately.”

“Yes, Sir.”

They left in a hurry, but he ignored them as he turned to the computer displays and called up the recordings of procession.

There it is. She’s good, I can barely follow her motions…

The cameras covered the entire area, but it was clear that the Terran sentinel had counted on that and was using the crowd for cover. Sensors designed to track living movement inevitably became overwhelmed by crowds, and she was using that deftly to her advantage.

Sienel suspected that this was likely another test more than a serious attempt at infiltration, which was one reason he wasn’t significantly more concerned. At the moment there was a very firm limit on the damage a single Terran could cause, the worst case scenario being the destruction of the station itself and the deaths of everyone on board.

That was, however, a highly unlikely goal in his estimation.

No, Sienel expected that she was after more intelligence. Response times, how well their security coverage was, possible more information from the station’s networks. All information they expected the Terrans to seek and, ultimately, to acquire. It was one reason they’d chosen the station, there was little here of any tactical or strategic value.

Still, it was more than a little irksome to lose her so completely while she was under the watch of no less than thirty of his agents and every camera in the area.

He was reconsidering her official classification, actually. No Sentinel, in his experience, would be quite so subtle.

Kill everyone in the area before they saw anything? Certainly. Vanish without a trace in a crowd while being watched by skilled and trained security? Not their forte, to say the least.

So, she isn’t a Sentinel then… but she’s clearly not an Agent either. What are you, little Terran?

*****

The alien promenade was a different place when you had the time to observe it in motion without the influences of dozens of officials clogging up the system.

There was a buzzing trade in small items, almost entirely handmade or natural goods from what Sorilla could tell. In fact, she had yet to spot anything that looks manufactured in the entire area. It was an interesting dichotomy against the clearly manufactured station it was set on.

She wasn’t overly concerned with the knick knack trade at the moment, however, though she had to admit that some of the hand crafted blades she’d seen were enough to catch her eye. While not on par with a molecular edged blade, a good steel knife likely wouldn’t trip the alien scanners either, so it did bear considering.

For the moment, however, she was more focused on developing a contact the intelligence people had already begun to work on. The local criminal wasn’t hard to spot, he was clearly something of a cock of the walk in the area, in his own mind at least. She suspected that he was probably connected to the local law enforcement somehow, that was usually how someone in his position kept from getting rousted too often.

It was remotely possible that he was actually as good as he thought he was, but then if that were true she likely wouldn’t have spotted him in the first place.

So Sorilla mentally classified the man as more self-important than important, and went about her shopping trip while she waited for him to show up.

She bought some trinkets, the cheap stuff that was available from the public fabricators. Sorilla focused on items that she could acquire the source code for, nothing that would interest security if they caught her. She didn’t need anything classified yet, what she and SOLCOM needed was basic intelligence on just about every aspect of the Alliance culture they could get.

Honestly, I doubt we’d be able to properly understand anything classified just now anyway, Sorilla thought, perhaps a little pessimistically.

The Alliance culture was unlike anything she’d ever encountered, it was unlike anything she’d even read about. It certainly didn’t fit any of the ‘perfect’ cultural patterns that had been imagined over the years.

There were strong aspects of core Communist doctrines that she could see, but it wasn’t clear how far those stretched. For certain, however, Sorilla hadn’t yet located anything that she could compare to Corporate culture on Earth. Most of the local economy was very small, often individualistic in nature.

That was in agreement with what she was reading on the local networks as well.

Few people had any use for the very concept of a corporation in the Alliance, near as she could tell. On Earth it took the economy power of a conglomerate of people to accomplish larger tasks, but from what she could tell the Alliance crowdsourced most, if not all, of that work.

Their primary economy was one of ideas, of designs.

And they sold those designs dirt cheap.

It made sense, however, since a design cost nothing to duplicate. Once you had it, it was free to copy as many times as you liked. From there you sent it out across the Alliance and sold it for pennies, or whatever the local equivalent was. One piece of important information she had located was that the estimated population of the Alliance worlds exceeded Nine hundred trillion sapients.

A billion sales was literally a fraction of a fraction of a percent of the population, but it would be enough to make an Alliance civilian rich.

From there, the buyer simply sent the design to a local fabricator, if he or she didn’t own one themselves.

Sorilla had already located references to what she might term industrial fabricators, likely owned by planetary governments. Those were used to build crowdsourced starships and other more sizeable items.

It was mind boggling, but Sorilla quickly realized that she was looking at the tip of the iceberg and as stunning as it was, she suspected that the depths of the Alliance went very deep indeed.

It’s a workers paradise, She realized. A real one, not some imagined vision of perfection. You do your own work, and you’re rewarded for it… but it can’t be that simple.

Sorilla had studied every form of government ever proposed in human history, from tribal tyrants to democratic presidents and everything in between. Few of the ideals had ever been properly tried, reality tended to get in the way in those cases.

Communism, for all the twentieth century talk, was one that had never existed in history beyond small communes and, ironically, the family unit. Stalin and his ilk were little more than tyrants fooling the people into thinking they were serving some ideal of the common good. It was a good lesson to remember, in Sorilla’s mind, that you should always watch what a newly formed nation chooses to name itself.

The name they choose, always masks their weakness.

The Union of Soviet Socialist Republics, was a perfect example. They were not a union, most of them were not soviet, none of them were socialist, and they weren’t republics. They poorly attempted to hide their weakness by proclaiming the opposite in their names.

It never failed in her experience, people knew where they were weak and it was an instinct to try and mask that weakness. Sorilla often used the same basic technique to tear down her students so they could be rebuilt, or to get to the heart of an interrogation.

Of course, Sorilla noted, That tells me all I need to know about this Alliance.

Unless she deeply missed her guess, she would find that they were not so allied as they wanted humans to believe.

Sorilla’s mind was brought back to the present when her target made his first appearance.

*****

Soun should have known he was getting himself deeper than he wanted when he sold the aliens that first clean card. He would likely learn to regret it later, he supposed, but for the moment he couldn’t help but be impressed by the Terran that had just waylaid him and pulled him off into a semi-private area of the Promenade.

He glanced around, from her face to where the observation devices were, and had to be impressed again. She’d clearly spotted them and picked her area well.

“Terran,” He nodded in greeting.

“I apologize,” She said in stilted Alliance Standard, “I do not know your race.”

“I am Quero,” He said, “local to this arm, a few light lengths from this system.”

“Light lengths?” She seemed to be considering the term, “Light years?”

“Year?” Soun shrugged, “Don’t know the word. Light Length is the standard stellar measuring point. One hundred thousandth of the span across the disc of the galaxy.”

Sorilla frowned hard, thinking deeply about that.

The Galaxy is seventy thousand light years across, so a light length is roughly point seven of a light year? She considered, thinking about before filing it for someone else to consider.

“How many other species are that close to this region?”

“Alliance or non-aligned?”

Sorilla actually had to struggle not to perk up at that bit of information, “There are non-aligned species nearby?”

“Other than your own? Several,” Soun said simply, “Few star faring ones, and none that earned the same recognition as your own from the Alliance, however. Normally negotiations are done over the homeworld of the species.”

Not so subtle intimidation factor there, pretty standard, Sorilla thought to herself. We do the same from Carrier decks back home.

So far she wasn’t learning anything she hadn’t expected, to one level or another, but it was good to confirm just the same.

“You’ve not snuck away from your handlers just to ask me about the locals, now have you?” Soun looked at her in what Sorilla could only presume was a skeptical way.

“Partly,” She said.

“And the rest?”

Sorilla held up a handful of cash cards she’d been issued for this specific reason.

“That I can help you with,” Soun admitted, “Clean cards, or services?”

“I want consumer tech,” Sorilla said, “sampling of whatever is popular will do, preferably that will suit my figure.”

He eyed her through the thick, and rather frumpy, robes. “How well suited?”

“General.”

“I can do that, anything else?”

Sorilla nodded, “The source code for anything you have fabricated.”

Soun frowned, few people wanted to code of what they were buying, unless they were planning on modifying it… or, of course, understanding it. He nodded, “Alright, I’ll use clear titled items then. That will limit what I can get you, though. Protected titles don’t release the code.”

Sorilla nodded, understanding, “How long do title protections last?”

“Alliance law gives protection for five years, but some of the best designers never release the code,” Soun answered, “if they’re good enough, they can keep it secure for longer.”

“Why would anyone ever release the code?”

“You have to if you want to qualify for the first five year protection offered by the alliance,” Soun said simply, “if you keep the code secret, you’re taking your chances that no one will crack it before at least the five years are up. It’s usually a fools bet, not one in a thousand is that good.”

“Got it,” Sorilla said, nodding, and she did.

The Alliance had an interesting take on intellectual property law, but it wasn’t that far removed from Earth’s. The five year limit was far stricter, of course, than life plus fifty that many ideas were protected for on Earth, but the basic gist wasn’t entirely alien. You had to make your money early on, or at least build a massive lead in the market, in the Alliance system, however.

Sorilla was willing to bet that innovation was the strength of the Alliance design, something that often seemed stilted by the ever increasingly complicated laws of Earth.

“I also want one more thing,” She said, before handing the cards over.

“Which is?”

“Keep an eye out, anything strange goes on on the station, let me or one of my people know,” Sorilla said.

It was always better to have friends in low places, often far better, than having them in high places. At least when it came to Sorilla’s line of work. Friends in high places tended to forget your name as soon as things got inconvenient, but she’d been consistently surprised by how loyal thugs and thieves could be in the right circumstances.

They might literally stab you in the back, true, but they’d never just forget your name and ignore you in a crisis. Sorilla learned a long time past that she preferred an honest betrayal over a political one.

“Alright,” Soun said, “I can do that. What do you consider strange?”

“You’ll know it if you see it,” Sorilla told him, “we had an assassination attempt already.”

Soun perked up, “I didn’t hear about that.”

“They’re keeping it quiet, I don’t care if it slips out.”

In point of fact, Sorilla wanted it to slip out. Rumors that the Alliance couldn’t secure their own station would open up a few cracks in the local façade. Maybe enough for her to get a decent idea of where those cracks were, maybe not, either way it wouldn’t hurt her or hers and it would likely cause her opponents a few headaches.

“I’ll put out the word,” Soun said after some thought, looking a little more upbeat than he had since she’d pulled him off out of the crowd.

Sorilla had to go with her gut, but she was putting the little league criminal in the category that self-important yet largely unimportant people often fit. They liked anything that made them feel more than they were. If she were right, she could play with that.

She had before.

“Good,” She said, handing him the cards. “I’ll see you in a few hours.”

Soun watched the Terran go, suddenly a lot more interested in the local political goings on. Treaty negotiations were dull, barely worth noting, but attempted assassinations? That was news, news that an enterprising individual could secure more than a few rounds of his preferred narcotic with.

*****

“We suspect she disguised herself.”

“As what?” Sienel asked, rather skeptical. “Every Terran on the station is supposed to be in one place, and I know of no other race in the Alliance close enough to easily hide as. Perhaps with time and significant technical support…”

“We have a number of Corel on board the station, Sir.”

Sienel grimaced, though honestly he suppose that he should have guessed. The Corel were somewhat obtuse by Alliance standards, very traditionalist and while not insular per sey, they were hardly the most outgoing on races either. Since they preferred to be garbed in body covering robes, and didn’t go out of their way to interact with other races or even each other, they would make an acceptable disguise.

They also had protections, of course, which meant he couldn’t simply search every one of them to find her. Even if she were still in that disguise, which was by no means a certainty.

“Very well, have each of the Corel on board monitored as well. If she was disguised as one, figure out which one and what they did,” He ordered, shaking his head.

This little game is becoming tedious, He thought. There were bigger problems to deal with at the moment, problems that needed his attention far more than a single Terran who was probably just confirming the information packets they’d already shared.

Unfortunately that wasn’t how the game worked.

When you knew you had a spy floating around, you did your level best to catch them, even if they weren’t likely to find anything.

If nothing else, she would be a nice bargaining point to use in the negotiations.

*****

Sneaking weapons grade munitions into the sector had been relatively easy, even with gravity jumps acting as choke points there was far too much traffic and even more space for the Alliance to patrol even a significant fraction of it.

The closer they approached the station, however, the more security increased with almost exponential swiftness. The normally reasonable security located around important Alliance systems and facilities was now nearing impossible levels of paranoid fantasy, though much of it was admittedly targeted at the possibility of a Terran assault.

So, even with the help of inside conspirators, getting their equipment onto the station had been a task no one would consider simple.

It was now done, however, and they were ready to move on to the next phase of the plan.

“What are these anyway?”

The one in charge, a old scarred Parithalain who’s skin was now a faded grey-blue didn’t look up at the question.

“Best you don’t ask.” He said simply, “Less you know, the better.”

“If you say so, Master.”

“Don’t call me that.” The Parithalian said, voice touchy.

“Sorry, Sir.”

In silence the group finished unloading the large canisters from the hold of the ship, floating them into the station’s bay on transport dollies, and then covered them carefully before continuing out of the bay and deeper into the station.

Before they left, the old Parithalian looked back to the pallet sitting in the corner of the bay and shuddered. Some things weren’t even meant to be last resorts, but he had his orders.

Chapter Twelve

Rejoining the Terran group was actually far trickier than sneaking away had been, partially because security had no doubt been heightened but mostly just because she’d been forced to ditch the coveralls. That left her with two problems, first Sorilla had to get rid of the robes she was wearing and, second, she knew that she’d have to find some human clothes in a hurry because sweat soaked skivvies tended to attract a whole different kind of a attention that she didn’t need at the moment.

Alright, most of that is from humans who should be smart enough not to push their luck with me, Sorilla conceded with a mental smirk as she watched and waited for her chance. Still doesn’t mean I want to give anyone ideas.

The Admiral spotted her as she moved into position and Sorilla saw him deploy his people to new positions. She rather liked working for someone who had an idea of what he was doing, it was a nice change from the normal experience of dealing with brass in the field.

The distraction came on cue, as she approached the edge of the crowd. Men from the Admiral’s detail surrounded her as a pushing match broke out on the other side. Sorilla wasn’t short, but she was towered over by the big guys on the detail and while it wasn’t in her personal fantasies, the experience of six body guards helping her strip in public was one she wasn’t about to forget anytime soon. With them on all sides, Sorilla marched right back onto the ship even as the robes that had covered for her were split up and stuffed into whatever bag, jacket, or other nook the group could find.

Once they were back on the shuttle, Sorilla finally relaxed, slumping into the acceleration seat as she felt all the nervous energy fleeing her body and leaving her nearly immobile.

“How did the mission go, Major?”

Sorilla didn’t open her eyes as she felt the weight of the Admiral sink into the next seat.

“Well, I’ve gathered more data. Enough to confirm a lot of what was in their information packets, plus more.” She said, “I have examples of local manufacturing, plus the source code they used, and I’ve arranged for more. We should be able to reverse engineer their machine code from that.”

“Excellent,” He told her.

The Admiral wasn’t exaggerating either, working out the aliens’ machine code was the first step in cracking their communications encryptions. Certainly they’d use very different methods for the two, it was true, but the core would be similar… or it should be, if they used a common base architecture at least.

Either way, they’d find out.

“I think we may have a potential asset in the target,” Sorilla said softly, “He’s self-important, likes to feel like he’s at the center of things. He’ll work for us because it makes him feel bigger than he is.”

“Good, I want you to speak with our Intelligence analyst and Humint specialist, tell him what you know and think you know.”

“Can do.”

“Alright,” Ruger said, getting up, “get some rest. You look like you need it.”

Sorilla didn’t have the energy to either roll her eyes or make the snide comment that part of her so desperately wanted to make, which was good because she was probably too tired to engage the brake on her mouth that kept her from mouthing off to superior officers.

Instead she just nodded slightly, “Yes sir.”

She hadn’t been active that long, actually, just a few hours. A regular working day, in all honesty. Sorilla could have stayed active one helluva lot longer, had it been required, but she’d learned a long time ago that when you were hyped up and working in enemy territory, you crashed when you had the chance. Her mind knew that she had the chance, and it intended to make full use of it.

Sorilla was asleep before the shuttle finished pre-flight and rumbled out of the station’s bay.

*****

A dull beeping noise caught his attention and Master of Station Parath walked over to the station, leaning in from behind his subordinate.

“What is it, Cor’a?” He asked.

“Uncertain,” She replied, scowling at her board. “Minor flux in onboard gravity systems, nothing out of the ordinary ranges, but it was unpredicted.”

Parath nodded, understanding her annoyance. Gravity reactors could be twitchy devices, but generally you could predict what direction they were going to twitch in. They had momentum, inertia, and didn’t just shift directions… so to speak… at a moment’s notice.

“Have a full systems check done,” He said, “If it’s the monitors that made a mistake, I want them fixed, if there’s something in the reactors… I especially want them fixed.”

“Yes, Master,” She answered, fully understanding his emphasis and agreeing with it. “I will see to it immediately.”

“Good, go.” Parath ordered, straightening up.

He stepped back to the center of the command deck and looked over his domain, all feeds and information streams included. The Station was one of the most important trade hubs in the sector, but it was a very minor military installation… or had been until recently.

Now, however, with countless military starships frequenting its immediate vicinity, the station’s own gravity core had to be watched even more intently. The waveforms of the cores could be affected by other gravity sources if they were powerful, or close, enough and that was one system that no fleet being wanted to have fail on them.

*****

Sorilla shifted in her sleep.

She’d got briefly to transfer from the shuttle back to her room, but quickly found that sleep wasn’t coming as easily on the ship as it had on the rumbling shuttle. It was more than a little annoying, she’d learned a long time ago how to sleep anywhere, anytime, and yet right now that skill was evading her mastery.

Finally Sorilla opened her eyes, staring up at the shelving above her bunk as she lay motionless.

One by one she started eliminating causes, trying to figure out what was bothering her and keeping her from the shut eye she rather fondly wished to have.

Noises, about as normal. Muffled groans of the metal stressing, some digital sounds, a few liquid gurgles from the plumbing.

It was all the usual stuff, things she could easily tune out.

No odd vibrations either, the air quality is still holding.

That last one was often a problem on board ship, even small variations in the filters could induce what crewmembers fondly referred to as ‘smoke’. At the moment, however, even her spectrograph and chemical analysis implants were happy with the ship’s air, which was perhaps unusual in its own right.

Sorilla scowled, digging deeper into her implants and comparing the current scans to baselines across the board, only to come up short on the gravity scans.

What the hell is this?

There was a distinct deviation in her internal accelerometer, showing that ‘down’ wasn’t where it was supposed to be.

Oh, it was close, otherwise she would have noticed it consciously a long time earlier. The deviation was barely a degree off from the mean, but that was enough to throw her out of whack. What was odd, however, was that it was a steady deviation. Usually if there were steady external gravity sources that close, or that powerful, the Captain would adjust the ship’s position to compensate.

She got out of bed and slapped a palm down on her desk, activating the comm there.

“Yes Major, is there a problem?” Crewman Parker’s voice came back quickly.

“Is engineering reporting problems with the gravity reactor?” She asked tiredly.

The voice chuckled, “We were wondering if you’d call. The reactor is fine, but there is some external interference we’ve not been able to isolate yet. We’re working on it.”

“Right. The source is point three degrees off our starboard quarter, forward.” She said, “Unless we’re dealing with multiple interference points.”

“Damn your kit is accurate,” Parker whistled, “We figured that as well, but that’s where the Station is and we’ve already accounted for its reactor. A new ship arrived a short while ago, but it shouldn’t be large enough to throw us off this much.”

“Roger that,” Sorilla sighed, “I’m going to try and get some more sleep then, thanks.”

“Anytime, Major.”

She killed the comm and lay back down, yanking a pillow over her head as she tried to ignore the subtle incline her senses were telling she was sleeping on. Normally it would, of course, be far to slight to feel, but with her mind interpreting the data from her accelerometer implants even before it got to her main processor, Sorilla felt like she was sleeping on the edge of a precipice and about to roll over.

Maybe if I put on a deployment chute it’ll feel more normal?

*****

“Well, we have secondary confirmation, it’s not our instruments. There’s really something out there,” Parker announced as he walked over to the Engineering duty station.

“Secondary confirmation?” Commander Bristol looked up, “Did the Alliance station report something?”

“No, Major Aida just called to find out why our reactor was out of alignment,” Chisolm laughed. “I think it’s keeping her awake.”

“Holy hell, what did SOLCOM put in that woman?” The Engineering Master Chief beside them blurted, before instantly grimacing, “and good god did that sound wrong. Still, I stand by the question.”

The others laughed at the Chief’s discomfort, but it was Bristol who answered.

“To be honest, we’re not sure. Her implant suite is classified, almost across the board.” He said, “but the accelerometers themselves are just standard micro-implants, mostly off the shelf hardware.”

“No way,” The Chief shook his head, “That stuff is nowhere near sensitive enough to pick up this deviation.”

“Pick it up, hell,” Parker snorted, “She located it within a hundredth of a degree.”

“Like I said, no way in hell her hardware is off the shelf, especially not the accelerometers.” The Chief said.

“Maybe right, I just know what I read in her file.” Bristol sighed, still focused on the problem, “but if it’s not our systems screwing up, we have a problem. What the hell is generating a gravity blip that powerful, or that close, that we haven’t already accounted for?”

The men and women assembled looked at each other uncomfortably, each hoping that someone else would have the answer for that.

No one spoke.

“Right,” Bristold said finally, “Recheck every gravity source on our scanners, and start looking for new ones. Are there any pulsars charted in the region?”

“Negative.”

“Alright, so that basically rules out stellar sources. That leaves the station and local ships, find me the source of that gravity hit.” Bristol ordered, “If someone out there is packing this much mass, that means we have at least a warship unaccounted for. Unaccounted for warships make me nervous people, you won’t like me when I’m nervous. Get to it.”

“Aye sir!”

*****

“Everything is in place, Sir.”

“Good,” The older Parithalian said, sounding pleased. “Be sure that it is all put to rights, we can’t afford any mistakes here. If we should fail, the next step is…”

Both shuddered, involuntarily thinking about the third, and hopefully unnecessary, phase of the plan they’d embarked upon. That level of destruction wasn’t to be contemplated idly, or at all if it were possible.

They would still follow their orders, but no one would be particularly pleased about it.

Becoming a martyr was acceptable, but it wasn’t something any of them were looking forward to.

*****

“Have you located the cause of the problem yet, Chief?”

“No Sir, Commander,” The Chief said tiredly, “However we’ve managed to adjust our stance to compensate. The Major should be sleeping better now at least.”

A smile played at Commander Bristol’s lips, “While I’m sure the Major will be grateful for your work on behalf of her beauty sleep, we still need to find the cause of the problem, Chief.”

The Engineering Master Chief nodded, “I know that Sir, but it’s a sneaky little bugger. Did you get any information from the Alliance?”

“Station Master Parath told the Captain that they’re tracking the same problem, they think it may be a minor variance in their own reactor,” Chisolm said, “but they can’t confirm it. Something about the system not being used to dealing with this many ships coming through.”

“Ech,” The Chief grumbled, thinking about it, “yeah, that would make a mess of your systems if you’d gotten used to minimal interference.”

“He also made a snide comment, or we think it was snide anyway,” Bristol shrugged, honestly not sure because of the alien culture, “about how much was leaking from our own reactor’s shielding.”

“Oh now that’s just below the belt!”

Bristol chuckled at the indignant reaction of the Engineer, though in all honesty he’d had much of the same reaction himself. Sailors had love hate relationships with the ships they sailed, but it was their prerogative to issue forth the hate speech and god help any outsider who dared… particularly if said outsider was an enemy, truce or not.

“I’ll have you know that our shielding is within ten percent of the best we’ve seen of theirs! Any bellyaching from them is bullshit… pardon my frankness, Sir.”

Bristol smiled dryly, “Don’t talk like that in front of the Captain… unless we’re in an emergency, of course.”

“Of course.”

“Suffice to say, I agree with you, Chief.” Bristol said simply, “They have better tech… or, I should say, more refined tech than we’re using, but it’s not so much better that they can be rubbing our noses in it with impunity.”

“I should say not.”

“Barring the Goulies, of course.” Bristol sighed.

“Right,” The Chief curled up his lips, like he’d just swallowed something nasty.

As much as any human would hate to admit it, particularly those in charge of defending the human controlled systems, it was quite clear that the Ross had a control over spacetime that made them almost… beyond mortal. The few humans who’d chanced a peek at the inside of the captured Ross starship had seen a fraction of what they could do, and most of them… the Commander and Chief included, were stunned that the Ross hadn’t simply rolled over Earth’s best like adults fighting children in the part.

For whatever reason, and it really was one of the mysteries of the war, the Goulies hadn’t acted like they wanted to win. Oh, sure, they pulled out the stops toward the end when the Alliance got fully involved, but with their portal ship there seemed little reason why they didn’t just march an invading army across Hayden within the first week.

Even the Alliance found the Ross to be near inscrutable, however, so they supposed it wasn’t a huge shock that Terran analysts were having minor nervous breakdowns over the puzzle they presented.

Bristol sighed, “Well this isn’t really getting us anywhere, unfortunately. Let’s get back to work and see if we can’t pinpoint that gravity interference source.”

“Aye sir.”

Goulies were one thing, but whatever was messing with the Mexico’s drives were a clear and immediate risk factor that couldn’t be ignored.

Bristol just wished they could figure out where the hell the variation was coming from.

*****

On the Alliance station, a single canister left in the loading bay shifted slightly in its place, as if moved by an invisible force.

Chapter Thirteen

Admiral Ruger looked out over the view of the alien system from the observation deck of the Mexico, eyes particularly drawn to the Parithalian starship parked just beyond and above the station, her guns not quite trained on the Terran cruiser.

These people know their intimidation techniques, I’ll give them that.

He suspected that, if the Alliance fully trusted them, there would also be a Ross ship floating out there just to drive the point well and truly home.

If course, turnabout was fair play on that, which was why the Captain of the Mexico had ordered all weapons and scanners turned off.

The Mexico was sitting there, effectively defenseless against enemy weapons, daring them to do something. It was subtle, but from what they’d read into the enemy motivations and concerns, since the Alliance still didn’t have a clue what happened to their fleet, this sort of casual dismissal would probably eat at them more than a show of force.

Of course, it if SOLCOM weren’t just as much in the dark about what the hell happened to the fleet the whole technique would be less unsettling on the crew of the Mexico.

Can’t have everything.

*****

Sorilla was decked out in her SOLCOM dress blacks again, no plan on infiltration this time around. She knew they’d be watching for it, and there was no point making anything easy on the enemy forces at the moment. If she ever did make it easy on them, she wanted to be damn sure that she had the ambush ready to take advantage of the fact.

The assembly for the hop across to the station was routine now, they all knew their parts and where they were supposed to sit and/or stand. That didn’t make it dull, however, or not exactly dull at least. There was a tedium in it for most of them, but it was stressed by the constant knowledge that things could go to hell at anytime… but until things did just that, they all had to act that they were on dress parade.

In many ways she preferred open combat, it was less stressfull.

The burr in the back of her mind was back as soon as the shuttle left the Mexico, an itch she hadn’t yet figured out how to scratch, but there wasn’t much she could do about it so Sorilla fought to ignore the sensation as best she could. It got worse on the station, however, as soon as she was within the artificial gravity she felt the variance like a needle in her brain.

Where the hell is it coming from, anyway?

There were times she cursed her implant suite, despite how useful it had shown to be in combat against the Ross. When you’re not hunting down and facing gravity superweapons, the ability to sense flux in local gravity fields was far from as useful and attractive as it might seem. She’d never been motion sick in her entire life until her brain rewired itself to intercept the signals from the accelerometers before her CPU could process them and, frankly, she’d rather be shot than motion sick ever again.

Her steps across the deck of the alien space station were made with deliberate aforethought, she had to focus on every step to keep from looking like she wanted to stagger like the proverbial drunken sailor. It was just damned distracting, enough so that she killed her CPU’s accelerometer feed.

That helped, primarily by removing some of the conflicting sensory data from her brain, but the accelerometers themselves were solid state and powered by her own body heat and neural electric field, so shutting them down wasn’t something anyone had planned for. Still, without the time delay on the CPU feed, she was feeling less like a drunken sailor after a binge and more like one just going into a binge.

Given the choice, she’d pick the latter every time.

*****

The day’s meeting was just the same points they’d been going over for the past several, but Sienel was watching with interest this time as his subordinates had reported to him that the Terran Sentinel was once again with the group. He had to admire the sheer level of gall it took to walk calmly into potentially hostile territory after having simply vanished the previous visit, it was the sort of thing he looked for in operatives himself, after all.

She was sitting calmly with the entourage, apparently taking notes with a portable computer. He suspected that was pure stage craft, however, since reports from the war indicated that the Terrans made liberal use of internal enhancements that would likely handle recording duties, among other things.

What worried him most, however, was that she was so blatant about what she was doing.

That usually meant that she would be playing the role of a decoy while others in her group got about with the real business of gathering information. Unfortunately, since this was a whole new species, Sienel couldn’t tell if that was what was happening or if the species was really this blunt about their actions.

Frustration was often part of his role, but even he had his limits and he suspected that the Terrans would shortly be pushing him to them.

Sienel was settling in for what was looking to be a long day when he noticed the object of his attention flinch and glare off at an apparently random section of the bulkhead and deck like the station itself had somehow offended her. He examined the offending spot for a few instants himself, but finally gave it up as yet another aspect of Terrans that befuddled him.

*****

That gravity spike is getting worse, Sorilla growled internally as she felt a moment of disorientation and queried her CPU for more precise data.

Her implants were capable of startling precision, but only through the calculations of the CPU. The disorienting spikes she got as a side effect of the neural transmission of the data tended to be a little more fuzzy. Like seeing something out of the corner of her eye, or imagining a sound, Sorilla often sensed gravity shifts long before any computer would report them, but confirming it took time and computer cycles.

In combat, she usually skipped that part, but right now there was nothing to react to, so she had her CPU processing everything to the highest degree possible. Maybe something would turn up that the ship’s sensors missed because she was mobile.

Either way, at least she felt like she was getting something done.

That was more than she could say for the negotiations, which still seemed to be centered around the same minor bullshit she’d listened to them yammer on about the first day she’d come out. Sorilla wasn’t going to pretend that she understood how political discourse worked, but her idea of negotiation took five minutes and generally involved violence or the threat of violence if it lasted much longer.

Probably best that I’m not a diplomat, She supposed idly, wondering for a brief moment how the Alliance negotiator would take it if she threatened to break his arm if he didn’t get to the damn point. I think those are arms.

Sorilla suffered through the morning and was contemplating the pros and cons of self inflicted injuries to get her sent back to the ship by the time they broke for lunch. So it was with considerable relief that she packed away the portable computer she’d been tapping random letters into while using it’s CPU cycles to supplement her own internal processor, and joined the rest of the delegates as they headed for the local eatery, or what passed for such at least.

Food had, perhaps surprisingly, not been a big issue. The Alliance, with its myriad of species, was used to catering to fairly complex requirements. Apparently humans barely mustered a blip on that radar, and after a little initial confusion due to language issues, it was quickly determined that there were several staples of Alliance food consumption that suited humans quite well.

Sorilla, well used to eating whatever was available and being particularly fond of trying cultural cuisines had adapted to the Alliance ‘table’ quickly. She wasn’t too picky with what was served and knew too damned well that the worst question you could ask was, “This is great, what’s in it?”

The meals were held on the other side of the promenade, which was probably poor planning on the part of the locals but it made things easier for Sorilla when it came to picking up new intelligence. Of course, that could be part of the Alliance’s plan, she supposed. The station was a relatively controlled space, they could easily monitor it and control what came in and went out.

Most likely, if she’d been planning the setup at least, very little real value would be available on the station’s computers, or in the heads of anyone present. For all that, however, she wasn’t worried. She wasn’t after anything top secret, and it was devilishly hard to hide cultural trends. So hard, in fact, that it didn’t even occur to most people to try.

So when she recognized the pickpocket working the crowd as they passed, Sorilla noticed that he brushed close to one of the delegates. The man didn’t seem to notice anything, but Sorilla made her way over to him and followed him into the cafeteria style eatery they were heading too.

Her target looked a little uneasy when she dropped into the chair next to him, pushing another delegate aside to do so. Sorilla ignored him and picked up the stylized utensil that bore little resemblance to a form, but got the job done well enough, and began eating even as he cast a glance at his friend and started to get up.

Sorilla’s iron grip on his shoulder brought him back into his seat with alacrity.

She hadn’t even looked up in the process.

“Uh…”

“Left pocket,” She said, still eating. “Empty it.”

The poor man, looking increasingly flustered, just stared for a minute but finally did as he was told. His shock when he found something in his empty pocket was almost funny, but Sorilla didn’t think laughing at the moment was a great idea.

“leave the packet, go sit with your friend.”

Almost pathetically gratefully, the man tossed the little package down and jumped up. He rushed across the room far too quickly for Sorilla’s taste. She sighed, almost audibly, knowing that she should have handled that much better.

Probably scared the poor bastard half into an early grave. Bureaucrats have no stomach for anything worse than a papercut.

“That could have been more subtle.”

Sorilla kept eating as the Admiral took a seat beside her.

“Subtle isn’t exactly what I’m trained for, begging your Admiral’s pardon, sir.”

Ruger snorted, “Apparently not, Major. And you can just shitcan that boot speak, I can poor piss out of my boot if the instructions are printed on heel, Major.”

“Sorry sir.”

Ruger shook his head, smiling a little fondly, “You know, there’s not a regular officer in any branch who’d speak to me like that. That’s the sort of toeing the line of insubordination that you only learn as a Sergeant.”

“Never really planned to be anything but, if you want to know the truth. Yet here I am, an Army Captain on a Navy ship where everyone has to call me Major.” Sorilla said dryly, “That’s several promotions above my grade, plus one for kicks.”

“Well, we all have our burdens, Major.” Ruger said, “Yours is to be penned in by your own success. What did you get off him?”

Sorilla rolled her eyes, but figured she’d already toed that particular line enough for one day. She opened up the packet she’d retrieved from the diplo-mule.

“Data chip, local design.” Ruger said, “Can you read it here?”

“They use quantum storage, better than anything we’ve got,” She said as she accessed the chip, “but the interface is optical. Just takes the correct modulation and presto.”

Ruger nodded, he’d known that of course, but he hadn’t been certain what capabilities the major had packed into her muscled form. Apparently a few he hadn’t been aware of, at least.

“Mostly the coding for the items I asked him to pick up, plus a drop point for delivery. I’ll send it to your aide,” Sorilla said, “this, however…”

She trailed off, eyes wavering as she focused on the information her implants were feeding her. Ruger waited patiently, knowing that even with the intel feed right into your eyes and brain, a human could only absorb things just so quickly.

Finally the glow in her eyes faded and Sorilla adopted a pensive expression.

“What is it?” He asked softly.

“Men… uh, aliens I suppose,” She said, “alien movement on the station that’s out of the ordinary.”

“Anything actionable?”

“Maybe, they’re moving a lot of equipment. This group came in on the ship yesterday,” She said, “they’ve been skirting around the conference all morning apparently, and at least some of them are armed.”

Ruger sat up a little straighter, “Sounds actionable. Did your contact provide any images?”

Sorilla nodded, “The Alliance is almost as lousy with personal records as Earth is, there’s plenty of imagery in here.”

“Good, send that to my aide as well. I’ll make sure it gets around to the security people.”

“Yes sir.”

“nice work, major.”

“thank you, Sir.”

*****

“This is our time, from this first step we shall change the face of the Alliance itself,” The old Parithalian told his assembled followers. “No more held in check by the countering forces of the Sturm and the Ross. These Terrans have given us an opportunity, and we can pit their forces against the Ross and the Alliance.”

Those assembled murmured in approval.

“The chaos that will ensue will give us our chance, the chance to finally break this Alliance the way it should have been broken long ago.”

The old Pari knew his audience, even to the point that many of them hated each other but didn’t care. The Alliance had been a check on all their people for as long as most of them could remember. The countering fear of the SturmGav against the terror of the Ross was all that kept some from revolting.

That was what most of them told themselves.

Frankly, the Parithalian doubted it was so.

Most people were satisfied with the way things were, but that was because they were content to remain fat and lazy in the cradled arms of those who couldn’t care less about them. He’d seen things in his life, dark and ugly things, but the kindness of the Alliance was perhaps the ugliest thing of all. It would kill a people slowly, through nothing but the best of intentions.

No.

Better a death of fire than one of a long slumber ending in eternity.

He would bring his people back to what they should be if it cost him his life, if it cost many others their lives. No more the caged birds of the Alliance, it was time for the Parithalian Raptors to fly free again.

“We wait for them to settle in to the afternoon’s talks, and we will strike when everyone is relaxed, tired, and bored.” He said, the leathery blue skin pulling back across the beak like mouth and nose. “Today… we change the Galaxy!”

*****

Sorilla wished that she could deploy drones as they were heading back into the negotiation chambers. A few DOGS or a couple Dragonflys would be of immeasurable security advantage, to say nothing of what she could do with something a little more proactive.

Unfortunately they were the guests at this particular negotiation, and the Alliance would probably frown at a bunch of armed Terran robots running around the station. In fairness, she wouldn’t be too pleased to find any combat Golems in the area herself.

Not without my mechanized systems, at least, Sorilla supposed dryly.

Unfortunately her TITAN Mechanized Armor was similarly persona non-grata here, and the Admiral didn’t even want to risk her OPCOM powered armor. As an official member of the bodyguard detachment she was permitted to be armed, but as powerful as her Metalstorm service piece was, it was a popgun against some of the potential threats the Alliance could toss there way.

Assuming the Alliance is the threat, Sorilla reminded herself.

She didn’t think they were, actually. Everything she’d learned about the Alliance political structure implied that it was inherently unstable. That was good for SOLCOM, but it was also very bad for everyone involved. When she’d been given her current assignment, Sorilla had been hoping to locate a few weak cracks in the Alliance structure, places that could be exploited to cause trouble for the Alliance and get them off SOLCOM’s back while Earth and her colonies continued to bolster defenses.

Now, however, it was clear that the sprawling nature of the Alliance, combined with limitations of even faster than light communications, had bred long standing feuds in the society.

That wasn’t a shock, actually, almost every group that reached a certain size seemed to develop similar issues. What was surprising was how quickly it was spilling over into Terran affairs. Normally, she would expect a much slower burn, but it seemed that wasn’t the case after all.

The key was going to be keeping the Alliance’s problems internalized, and then maximizing them to the benefit of SOLCOM. Unfortunately, it was clear, that those problems had no intention of staying internal, for whatever reasons, and were actually deeply intent on dragging Earth, SOLCOM, and Sorilla into the mix.

Which made her objective simple, actually.

Make sure they failed.

Easier said than done, I suppose, Sorilla grimaced, but at least I don’t have fifteen different conflicting objectives this time around.

Sorilla opened her implants up, not something she normally did because in her particular line of work stealth was normally more important, and used her overrides to slave the implants of everyone else in the room to her own. Her processing ability jumped up over fifty times normal, while all the feeds from the many people in the room became accessible to her.

She ignored most of them, the diplomats and assistants who were just looking at each other and their Alliance counterparts. They were only useful for the added processing power she could offload onto them. The bodyguards, however, they were looking outward.

She had a use for them.

The SOLCOM override codes were accepted across the board, even the Admiral’s implants bowed to hers… though Sorilla noted Ruger twitch when she sent the signal so she knew that he, unlike most of them, at least had clear warning of what she was doing. Likely he could override them himself as well, but he chose not to.

Sorilla kept her fingers moving on the computer, but they were tapping out pure gibberish. She was focused internally. Something was up, now she was as ready as she could be to meet it.

Game On.

Let’s play.

*****

Sienel had a bad feeling.

He couldn’t figure out what it was coming from, however. Everything seemed in line with where it should be. The negotiations were frustratingly slow, but that was the norm for such matters in his experience. None of the people involved seemed surprised, or even especially annoyed, by the pace, so it wasn’t his concern anyway.

However something had changed after the meal.

He couldn’t figure out what it was, but there was a new feeling in the room, a tension that hadn’t been there before.

Sienel hated it when he couldn’t put his digit on a feeling, it usually meant that he was missing something important.

Sighing, he waved over one of his assistants.

“Sir?”

“Have security increase their levels.”

“Yes sir… may I tell them why?”

Sienel wavered for a moment, then just waved the question off, “Those are my orders.”

“Yes Sir.”

What could he tell them? That he had a ghost feeling based on something even he couldn’t pin down? No, they just needed to know that he wanted them more alert. That was their job, his was to see to it that their job was completed correctly.

Now, if he could just figure out what had just changed?

Chapter Fourteen

The old Parithalian observed the increase in security with mild annoyance, clearly something had tipped off those in charge, however it was equally clear that they had no clue what was happening otherwise they’d have done far more than add a few guards and order them to look alert. No, the plan was still intact, but this would mean a little more resistance going in.

So be it. No one claimed this would be an easy task, and the greater the challenge the greater the victory when it is complete.

“All our people are in place.”

“Good,” The Pari said softly, “Issue the order, then.”

The tension that had been building up all morning vanished then, there was no longer a reason to worry. Either they would succeed or they would fail, worrying no longer mattered.

The order passed quickly back through the group as they broke from their positions and began to approach their targets.

*****

The strike came quickly and nearly without warning.

Sorilla caught the barest flash off one of the security detail’s implants, not enough to issue an effective warning, but thankfully she didn’t have to. It wasn’t aimed at any of the human security, instead the first blast took out one of the Lucian guards.

The grey skinned alien went down hard, half his face a smoking wreck, his left arm entirely missing. In those few shocked instants, however, orders had already been issued to the human security.

Sorilla had to give it to Swift, he picked his men well and they were well drilled. They didn’t know that she’d hijacked their command structure, but that hardly mattered. They reacted on orders with the precision she’d expect from an elite team, following her cues and grabbing cover even as they drew their weapons.

She directed them to the cleanest cover with the best vantages, splitting their fire among the tangos she’d identified. In the seconds it took for them to get into place and begin returning fire, however, three more of the Alliance security personnel had gone down under heavy fire.

Interesting. They’re targeting their own people. Setting us up, or is this a genuine grudge match?

Of course, Sorilla was all too aware that possibility A simple did not preclude possibility B. In fact, if they did have a genuine grudge, the smart move was to set the new guys on the block up for the deed. Unfortunately, for them at least, Sorilla couldn’t let them get away with it for any one of a multitude of reasons. She sent new orders to the security, while simultaneously issuing fallback orders to all non-combatants.

The room was exploding in chaos, humans and aliens alike were reacting without thought, making things more complicated as they did so, and generally mucking with Sorilla’s defense strategies. She was used to dealing with unexpected factors, however, as a guerilla warfare specialist the unexpected was her sword and her shield.

Sorilla, herself, didn’t move as everyone burst into motion. She focused internally, looking through her implants and the eyes of everyone else in the room. Her combat processor was handling the majority of the image discrimination, picking out the best vantage points as they became available, and letting her focus on the situation that was unfolding.

She slipped orders into the queue for Swift, logging them through the Admiral’s processor to avoid any hassle. Technically even Ruger wasn’t in command of Swift’s detachment, but she doubted that the agent would take this point in time to duke it out with an Admiral, something he might just do with a lowly Army Captain.

They’re coordinated, trained, but a little rough on teamwork, Sorilla noted with the same eye she used to judge what kind of material she would have to work with on assignment.

If she’d been brought in to train this lot in Assymetrical Warfare Tactics, she’d have been marginally encouraged by the quality of the base material. Of course, she wouldn’t be pleased with their strategic acumen in the least. Only fundamentalist morons picked a target they couldn’t reasonably expect to walk away from, and in her book a secured space station was certainly one of those!

Being a Martyr was fine, if that was what fate had in store for you, Sorilla just didn’t think that you should rush fate’s playbook.

She watched as the security forces were mowed down in the initial strike, noting that they had access to heavy weapons generally not in line with what she’d issue for use inside a tin can bubble in space. The human security teams were more effective, tipped off and guided by her overwatch of the situation, but Sorilla realized in less than the first minute that they were going to lose the fight.

She logged an order into the system and sent it out, resulting in the security teams falling back on her command to protect the SOLCOM delegates. As she surmised, once they shifted to a defensive stance, the attackers largely ignored them.

Sorilla only then started to move, standing up and walking calmly amid the furor toward where the Ambassadors were sitting, both human and alien obviously in shock from the fight.

She stopped in front of their table just as the fighting largely ended with the victorious attackers securing the last of the Alliance security and turning their focus to the remaining humans and the stunned diplomatic team.

“Check fire.” Sorilla ordered aloud, “Hold your positions.”

“This isn’t your command, Major,” Swift growled, shifting his grip as he shielded the human contingent, standing in line with his men. “Not your call.”

“Do as she says,” Ruger growled, eyes on the situation and clearly not liking what he was seeing.

“Not your call either, Admiral, I’m not under military jurisdiction,” Swift growled.

Sorilla shot him a glare, but didn’t say anything. Instead she shot out a mission priority order across the implant network they all shared. In effect, claiming that the situation fell under her orders and not Swift’s. She could see Swift instantly stiffen and twist to snap at her, which was mildly disappointing. Not that he objected, that was expected, but any Operator would have done so on the network and not in public space.

“Swift.” Ruger’s voice was low and gravelly, but it brooked no objections or complaints from the other man as he cut in.

On the network his codes backed Sorilla’s, rendering the argument moot unless the Ambassador chose to step in. A few long moments passed, but no other network codes chose to intervene.

Swift hesitated, but finally took a step back and nodded to his team. “Check fire. Don’t do anything to start a fight unless they go after our principle.”

The men nodded, clearly frustrated and relieved. They knew their task, and they weren’t happy about stopping the fight, especially since two of their number lay dead on the floor, but it was clear they were on the wrong end of the numbers game. They fell back a couple steps, but none of the dropped their weapons as the attackers approached.

“Lower your weapons,” The one Sorilla assumed that the leader ordered.

She crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head, “Not going to happen.”

“Lower them now!”

Shit. This Diplomacy bullshit is not my deal, Sorilla mentally griped, though honestly this wasn’t the first time she’d been in very similar circumstances.

“Look, you’ve got guns, we’ve got guns, if you want a shootout we can do that,” She said as calmly as possible, “but if you want our weapons, you can come over here and take them.”

“You are not giving orders here!”

Sorilla remained where she was, standing between the human ambassador and the Alliance one, “Neither are you just yet. You showed some balls walking in here like this, but you have to know that there’s no exit strategy for you, so what’s your play?”

“Balls? Play? This is no sport, Terran. You do not have to die here today, we are after the collaborators.”

Sorilla’s eyes widened.

Collaborators.

That was a powerful word, on Earth at least. It wasn’t something that should be tossed around casually, and she wondered if it were well matched to the situation. So far she’d seen no hint of any of the kinds of things that she would normally associate with the sort of government occupation that would engender that word to the lips of the resistance, but she knew that everything she had was filtered and sanitized… more than likely, at least.

“A resistance then,” She said aloud, now fishing for information. “I’m surprised, what we’ve been able to learn so far didn’t indicate anything like that existed in the Alliance.”

That was a semi-blatant lie, she’d already picked up enough to know that some worlds certainly chafed under the control of the Alliance government, but at the same time she was looking at examples of what she had believed previously to be the staunchest species in the alien cluster.

The leader, a member of the same race she’d pegged as the local spy master, sneered… or at least Sorilla supposed it was a sneer… her way.

“The Alliance has fed you propaganda. There are billions waiting to throw off their shackles and rise up, afraid only of the converging terror of the Ross and the Sturm!”

Sorilla ignored the words, focusing on the body language. Interpreting body language was an art form, one she’d mastered a long time ago, but on aliens it was like learning to walk all over again. She had limited data on how they reacted, what their base instincts were, and that was a problem. A predatory species would have massively different reactions than a herd species, for example, and that was ignoring the simple issue of body formation.

Not all of the Alliance were humanoid, which made things harder again. Many were, however, and as best she could tell the Alliance was ruled by a humanoid culture, so she supposed she had that in her favor.

For all that, however, Sorilla twitched as the leader… terrorist, freedom fighter? She didn’t know, didn’t care… talked. He was bluffing, she was almost certain. There were some discontented groups in the Alliance, clearly, but she didn’t read his threat of billions as being remotely true. This wasn’t the act of a strong group, for one thing.

If they had been that strong, they would have approached the human delegation and tried to open negotiations. Terror strikes, like this, were the acts of desperate people. People who felt they didn’t have the strength to face their enemies on any legitimate battlefield, and were forced to use whatever means were available.

So, he doesn’t have billions backing him… Sorilla noted, nodding slowly as she came to that conclusion. Good. That means we can use them, and they need us more than we need them.

“Liar!”

Sorilla blinked, surprised by the new voice, and looked askance at the Alliance ambassador.

Apparently no one told him the best way to get a bullet in the head was to open his mouth and ask for it, She thought dryly as the focus of the whole event shifted back to what appeared to be the main target.

“You and your insane band of imbeciles are nothing but fringe fools,” the Ambassador blustered, apparently unaware of the number of angry people aiming powerful weapons in his direction. “You accomplish nothing but the destruction of public property and merely drive yourself farther from the people you claim to be protecting!”

“Is that so?” The leader sneered, or at least Sorilla registered the expression as a sneer and coded her implants appropriately. “At least we claim to protect the people, you merely fall all over the Sturm, or quiver in fear from the Ros!”

“The Sturm are our allies!”

“They don’t care for you or anyone else, and you know that as well as I!”

Sorilla watched, finding it more than a little surreal, as the terrorist attack on a diplomatic meeting turned into a shouting match. She supposed that she’d seen odder in her years of service, but she couldn’t think of when at the moment. Still, as long as they were content to scream at each other instead of shoot one another, she was content to watch, listen, and pick up what intel they were willing to dole out.

Unless this was an intentional setup, which she had a hard time believing it could be, what she was hearing now was more honest than everything she’d been told since arriving.

*****

Sienele was swearing as he watched events unfold over the monitors, realizing that he now had two entire diplomatic parties being held by one of the fringe rebel groups that still plagued many of the worlds that had joined the Alliance.

He couldn’t figure out just which group this was, however as it obviously included members from several different species that would narrow the field down. Most of the rebel groups were severe isolationists and didn’t trust other species, many of them were core fundamentalists with belief systems that didn’t even include other intelligent life. For a group to have brought in other species meant that it was far more progressive in nature than normal, and probably had ulterior motives beyond the obvious.

“How long before you can have a full team in place?” He asked over his shoulder, to where the Lucian Sentinel was speaking quietly, yet urgently, into a comm.

Kriss glanced over, “Soon.”

The word was hardly soothing, but it would have to do, Sienel supposed.

“We cannot let the diplomats die, Kriss.” He ordered, “The Alliance is ill prepared for a war.”

Kriss paused, “Are you ordering me to save the Terrans first?”

Sienele hesitated, then nodded tersely, “Yes.”

The Sentinel stared back for a long moment, before finally saluting stiffly, his fist crooked out slightly. “On your orders.”

Sienele sighed after the Sentinel had left, knowing that order had cost him a great deal of respect. Lucians were very understanding about sacrifices if it helped them defeat the enemy, but to sacrifice in order to save the enemy? No, that wasn’t something the Sentinel would forgive anytime soon.

Unfortunately Sienele was well aware of just how precarious the situation was, and he doubted very much that the Sentinel had any clue.

Oh, the Alliance certainly had the power to simply fly right over the Terrans and pound their world’s into submission. From what he’d seen it was a small miracle that the tasked fleet hadn’t already done just that. Certainly, that particular miracle was part of what was holding their hand in check, but every piece of intelligence they had said that the Terran’s just didn’t have the power to hold off the Alliance in force.

The trouble was, the Alliance wasn’t in force.

Most of the Sturm Navy was spread all over the Galaxy, either holding the Ross in check or actively dealing with other empires around Allied borders. Along with them were the majority of the Alliance navies in support of the Sturm, to varying degrees.

The only group that had the forces necessary were, perhaps, the Ross… and Sienele would personally throw himself out of the station and into the heart of a dying sun before he offered them a free pass to act in this sector now that he’d seen just how deep their interest went.

He had to learn why the Ross were so intent on a seemingly insignificant border world before he would even consider offering up that kind of authorization, and even then he couldn’t’ imagine a scenario in which it would be a good idea to let the Ross act unilaterally.

No, Sentinel Kriss would have to understand, and if it became too much of a problem… well, Sienele would find some unimportant border dispute to assign him to.

*****

Ruger watched impassively as the shouting continued to escalate, he was actually shocked it hadn’t devolved to violence already given that fully half the people arguing were armed and had very little to lose over a little more death. That said, the information they were spewing was worth its weight in platinum, and he had to admire how Major Aida was subtly deescalating the conflict whenever it appeared ready to boil over.

You’d almost think she was used to standing between armed factions and treating them like loudmouthed teenagers.

Of course, Ruger was well aware that was precisely what many of her missioned entailed. When you were trying to stitch together a reasonable resistance force out of a half dozen different religious sects or even a couple completely different beliefs, juggling full grown men like they were cranky toddlers was par for the course.

Still, I doubt she’ll be able to keep it going much longer as it stands, He decided. The rebels, if that was what they were, had to know that security was on its way. In fact, the longer they seemed content to ignore than, they more nervous he personally felt. Only people who didn’t expect to get out alive wouldn’t care about security at this point, and he really didn’t want to be trapped in a room with a bunch of potential suicide bombers or whatever the local equivalent was.

Ruger sent an order through the implant network, telling the Major to cut her interrogation short. He didn’t want to see what would happen if they pushed their luck too far here.

Hell, maybe we’ve already done just that.

*****

Sorilla blinked, acknowledging the order from the Admiral and began to put her escape plan into action.

The Admiral probably expects me to deescalate this mess, She thought, amused, won’t he be surprised.

“So who are you here to kill?” She stopped deftly deflecting the attentions of the terrorist leader and opted to bluntly smash him right between the eyes with her next question instead. Of course, she already knew the answer to that one. “Since you said we didn’t have to die, I have to assume you’re going to kill the Alliance diplomatic team and lay it at our feet?”

The leader actually looked a little chagrined, maybe even a little apologetic, but confirmed her words with his own.

“Yes. I am sorry, but your people have provided us with an opportunity we’ve been waiting for for a long time.” He told her, hefting his weapon and aiming it at the Ambassador.

“Well, if we’re going to catch the blame anyway,” Sorilla shrugged and casually slid her own weapon from her holster, drawing the immediate attention of no less than five of the gravity pulse weapons.

She ignored them, flipping the MTac over in her hand and offering it to the Terrorist, “Why don’t you kill him with one of our weapons.”

The Alliance ambassador looked rather ill at that moment, as most of the humans in the room gaped openly at her.

“Captain Aida!” The Ambassador, the human one, shouted at her, “Have you lost your mind!?”

“Probably,” Sorilla answered in a flat monotone, “Somewhere between Hayden and where Valkyrie vanished, I think.”

She turned her full focus on the closest alien holding a weapon on her, “So? You want to do him with my sidearm?”

The alien hesitantly reached out and took the proffered weapon, considering it closely for a moment before gripping it as he’d seen the other humans handle their weapons and turn it on the Ambassador.

“I suppose this is the best way to handle things,” He said coldly, his long digit curling around the trigger and squeezing.

When, a moment later, nothing had happened Sorilla dryly spoke again.

“The safety is on,” She said, “The lever on the side of the weapon.”

The alien scowled, turning the weapon to look down at it. “I see no lever.”

“Try the other side.”

Sorilla heard a snort from one of the security detail under Swift, and made a personal note to work on not broadcasting her opinions of people quite so clearly in the future. The aliens wouldn’t always be so ignorant of Human body language and tone.

Of course, it wasn’t strictly the alien’s fault; her weapon didn’t have a safety.

He twisted it over, shifting unconsciously toward her, and inadvertently wound up pointing the weapon directly at his closest comrade.

The Metalstorm weapon roared, a single round ejecting from each of the two barrels, and the half inch slugs tore into the alien at point blank range. The armor piercing rounds of the Metalstorm Tactical Pistol shredded the alien flesh, dropping the alien in place, as the leader of the alien group stared in total horror.

Sorilla took one step forward, grabbing the limb holding the weapon and twisting as she brought the weapon around and swept the room. The MTac roared again as the barrel crossed each of the terrorists she’d previously tagged.

The bullets in the barrel of the Metalstorm weapon weren’t fired by a mechanical trigger, instead they relied on electrical impulses delivered wirelessly via the gun’s onboard computer. A computer that interfaced seamlessly with Sorilla’s own implant suite.

She looped one arm around the leader’s head, such as it was, and muscled his arm around the room in a second sweep that fired another dozen rounds. By this point Swift’s men had reacted, their own more conventional weapons adding to the cacophony of fire and death that enveloped the room, and in seconds it was all over.

Sorilla considered the situation and the life she held in her arm, debating whether or not to snap its neck to cover her involvement from the alien rebels, but decided against it at the last moment. While masking her actions would be beneficial if she had to make a new first impression, preferably one that didn’t involve killing every rebel in the room with her, the rebel leader was likely going into lockdown anyway and if the Alliance couldn’t keep him on ice, someone would leak the exact nature of what had happened sooner or later.

Instead she twisted, using her hip as leverage to boost him off the ground, and tossed the shocked alien onto the nearest table where she planted her knee into his back and put the barrels of the pistol to his head.

“My gun doesn’t fire unless I allow it,” She hissed. “If you ever get another shot at something like this, I’d suggest being very suspicious of helpful people.”

“That will not be an issue,” The Alliance Ambassador growled, “He will not get another chance.”

Sorilla glanced up, noting that the Alliance security had been replenished, with the alien commando in the lead. She pushed off her victim and left him to his own, or as close as there was in the room.

“I hope you’re right,” She said, “It’s bad form letting a meeting of this level be interrupted by anything, let alone armed terrorists.”

“indeed,” The human Ambassador, Miram, agreed as she regained her composure quickly enough to make some points for the negotiations. “This is most irregular.”

“Yes, I apologize. It seems clear that we’ve had a most serious breakdown of security,” The Alliance Ambassador reluctantly said, “I will see to it that this doesn’t happen again.”

“While you’re working on that,” The Ambassador smiled, an expression fit for a shark… a polite shark, but a shark nonetheless, “Might I suggest we move our deliberations to the Mexico? For security purposes, of course.”

There was a long silence before the alien nodded, sounding like he was having his teeth pulled as he spoke, “Of course. Very well, we shall do just that.”

“Excellent.”

Chapter Fifteen

“Interesting weapon,” Sienele said dryly as they rewatched the scene for the fifth time. “Primitive, yet oddly sophisticated. Alliance personnel haven’t used purely chem-kinetics for over… what? A hundred light cycles?”

“Closer to a hundred and fifty,” Kriss responded, “which is one reason why we don’t have more effective armor against it, our issue kit is designed to protect against shrapnel, not armor perforating projectiles. For a Lucian it’s not as important, but against most of our armed forces the Terran anti-personnel weapons are very effective.”

“Honestly, I’m more interested in the fact that she can interface with the weapon at a distance,” Sienel said dryly. “Remind you of anyone?”

“The Ross, yes I know.” Kriss responded, “though we’ve not yet been able to determine what mechanism the Ross use, the Terran’s, however, is quite obvious. We removed multiple computing implants from many of the enemy soldiers we killed in the war.”

“I want the frequencies to jam those systems,” Sienele ordered, “I’m not comfortable with them being able to activate their weapons at a distance.”

“That’s what concerns you?” Kriss snorted, “I’d be more worried about what they tell one another that you can’t listen in on.”

Sienele’s eyed widened for a long moment, then he make a gurgling sound as he realized that he’d totally missed that.

I can’t believe I missed that. I’m supposed to be the intelligence officer here.

“Of course,” He grumbled, “Secure transmissions between the whole group of them, most likely… but we’ve never detected anything?”

“Neither did we,” Kriss admitted with a shrug, “Whatever signal band they use, it’s very difficult to pinpoint. If it were me, I think I would run it in the background radiation, encoded to appear as random signals.”

“Whatever it is, we need to locate it.”

*****

“Interesting negotiation technique, Captain.” The Ambassador growled, rolling her eyes as they walked along the corridors of the Mexico.

“Call her Major while we’re on the ship, Ambassador.” Admiral Ruger said, “A ship only has one Captain.”

“Right, of course.” The Ambassador said dryly, then sighed, “it worked out, I suppose. Next time I’d like a little advance warning before you hand a weapon over to an Assassin, however.”

“Operators can lock their weapons, Sir,” Ruger offered, “or fire them remotely, as you saw. She didn’t give him a weapon, she just used an alternative aiming mechanism.”

Swift snorted, “First time I ever heard an enemy operative called that before.”

“Really?” Sorilla asked, “Heard it a few times myself.”

Ruger smiled slightly at that, before speaking up, “The important thing is, how will this affect negotiations, Ambassador?”

“Well,” The Ambassador sighed, “On the plus side, we’re moving negotiations to our own turf. That’ll have an effect, but it’s too early to be sure just how much. They’ve also lost some face, which I’ll be able to turn into some ground for our side. The downside is that the Cap… sorry, the Major did expose some of our military capabilities. I’m no expert on what that will mean.”

“Negligable,” Ruger said, “We know they captured the bodies of our sailors and soldiers during the war, so it’s safe to say that they knew about our implants and had at least some rudimentary ideas of their capabilities.”

“I’ll take your word it, Admiral.”

“Security is going to be a nightmare,” Swift said, “We’ve never had the aliens on our ship before.”

“The crew of the America would beg to differ, Son.” Ruger told him, a brittle edge to his voice.

Swift stiffened, then looked away, “Sorry Sir.”

“No matter what, we’ve got a lot of work to do before tomorrow,” The Ambassador cut in, “I want everyone on deck for their arrival, full ceremony.”

“I’ll see to it,” Ruger said calmly, “We’ll trot the dog and pony for you Ambassador, don’t worry.”

“Good. Everything to the highest order for when they arrive, I don’t want the slightest slips. Chances are they wouldn’t recognize it anyway, it’s a matter of professionalism.”

“Relax, Ambassador, this is the Black Navy,” Ruger smiled, “Putting on a show is the second best thing we do.”

“And the first is?”

“Not something you talk about in polite company.”

*****

The old Parithalian stared silently at the bulkhead, his hand resting on the large canister by his side.

“This means we will have to fall back to our backup plan,” He said heavily, “and hope that it all works out for the best.”

“Master, this seems like a risky idea,” One of the few remaining members of his group said quietly. “There is no guarantee that the blame for this will fall as we hope… particularly not with the Ross in the system.”

“This I know, but we have no other alternatives.”

“The security will be intense, nearly impossible to break.” Another objected, “I am sorry, master, but we’ve lost our chance.”

“no, the Terrans will respect diplomatic privilege. Our contacts got us through security once, this time they will get us into security.”

*****

“I want this station locked down, double… no, triple security!… This humiliation is…”

Sienele listened with only a fraction of his attention as the Ambassador ranted while pacing the room and flailing limbs in all direction. Honestly he didn’t blame the man, the debacle in discussions had been one of truly epic proportions. They’d lost over ten security officers, and the Terrans had lost three of their own. Since it happened on Alliance territory, those three actually outweighed his ten unfortunately, losing a lot of face for the Alliance ambassador in the ongoing deals.

In reality it didn’t change much at all, really, he supposed.

Militarily the balance of power was still where it was, unfortunately that just meant that no one had the slightest clue where the balance of power really was since the Terran sector was basically a black hole for intelligence at the moment. One of the biggest goals of this whole treaty discussion was just to find out what the abyss had happened to the Alliance Fleet they’d sent against the Terrans.

“Calm down, Ambassador. Alliance Central Security has already assigned new officers to the detail, bringing our numbers up well past earlier strength.” Sienele assured him, “We’re above double strength and new personnel is being sent in as we speak.”

“I certainly hope so, I’ve never seen such a debacle in my time,” The Ambassador would be chewing the bulkheads if he could, not that Sienele blamed him.

The entire mess was almost beyond belief.

As the Intelligence chief for the sector, Sienele was well updated on every partisan and dissident group for at least ten jumps. None of them were remotely organized enough to have pulled off something like had just happened, in fact none of them would have been able to get onto the station to even consider it.

That meant they were looking at outside agitators having moved into the sector, which was big trouble. The Alliance was a large political entity, and it was virtually impossible to track every malcontent within its borders. Over the period since the original signatories of the Allied Treaties a lot had changed, and a lot of people had been seriously angered.

Since this group had membership from multiple races, that meant they were one of very few with enough organization to be considered an extra-planetary threat. That was highly unusual, most groups of dissidents were small, generally scattered across the population of planets of secondary and tertiary importance.

Core worlds were too highly digitized for such things to last long once they got out of the moaning and complaining stage, and few of the backwater worlds that weren’t had enough traffic to allow groups to easily hide in. So that meant they were dealing with one of perhaps six groups with that sort of organization and funding.

That sounded like a lot, Sienele supposed, but six groups across over six hundred planets wasn’t much in his opinion. No matter their internal ideology, he also suspected that their funding came straight from the core world corporations, however, and that was going to make things very difficult. Corporate dark funding was always hell to track down, especially since they never had the same goals as the people they were funding.

Unfortunately it was just in the economic best interests of many of those companies to foment trouble for various reasons. Sometimes it was as simple as drumming up business in any of several markets… weapons, security, medical… other times, well it could get complicated.

Generally, however, attacking a Central Alliance Diplomatic negotiation in progress was more than your average corporation would be willing to fund.

Now, all I have to do is find out which one of them overstepped their bounds so far that we have no choice but to slap them down. A career winning situation, this is not.

*****

“Getting our people onto the human ship will be easy, our connections with the Core Worlds will see to that… How do we bring the device on board, however, they are sure to check.”

“The core is cloaked, we can pass it off as a security scanner.” The elder Parithalian said, “Our own best detection systems can barely note the added gravity signature. The Terrans didn’t have any significant gravity technology at the start of the war, and reports from the capture of their vessel at the end of the war indicated that while they’ve adapted quickly, their control and detection systems are still extremely crude at best.”

“Will the cloaking hold up that close to another singularity?”

That, the elder Parithalian had to admit, was the catch.

Hiding a gravity source was possible, but it was extremely tricky. Since gravity propagated in waves, the easiest way to cloak a source was to use a secondary source that was offset by a half phase point. That way the two sources of gravity waves functioned to cancel each other out, so in order to mask gravity you had to first double it.

The most difficult part of this was keeping containment on the two opposing gravity sources, since one of them had to be created from extra-universal material. If one lost containment on an artificial singularity, particularly in the presence of another in an opposing phase… Well, the results were generally spectacular, impressive, and final.

“We’ll make it work.”

*****

Sorilla got up, irritably glaring around the room as she stalked over to the comm panel and jabbed at one of the buttons.

“Yes Major?”

“What’s going on with the gravity, Parker? I can feel a burr trying to roll me out of bed, it’s damned freaking annoying.”

The young voice on the other end paused for a moment, coming back quietly and more than a little nervously.

“S-sorry, Ma’am. We’re having a hard time tracking down the exact vector on it, but it’s not internal to the Mexico.”

Sorilla sighed, “Must be a new ship arrival.”

“No Ma’am, nothing new in sector for over twelve hours.”

“Tell the Chief to calibrate his scans eighteen degrees starboard, down plane.” She ordered, “and request that the Mexico be re-oriented eight degrees, same.”

“Aye Ma’am,” The crewman told her. “Wilco.”

“Good. I’m going back to sleep.” Sorilla grumbled, closing the connection.

Sometimes the subconscious interception of her implant data was more trouble than it was worth. Her brain was actually better at interpreting the data than her processor was, but the filters on her brain sucked. At least with her implants she could shut the feed off, but in order to function correctly the accelerometers in her body had to be constantly re-calibrating themselves.

That gave her a lot of advantages, including a basically infallible dead reckoning guidance system… she didn’t need no stinking GPS to know where she was to within ten centimeters, but it also meant that the feed system was always being intercepted by her hind brain and that was a pain she didn’t want to deal with.

Not that she had a choice, of course.

If I get my hands on the bastard who’s running an uncalibrated singularity around here, I’m gonna strangle them and feed them to their own tech.

Sorilla climbed back into bed, sighing softly as she felt the Mexico shift in space to compensate for the gravetic variation. At least the crew of the Mexico were on top of things, even if one of the alien groups out there wasn’t.

*****

“Damn, how does she do that?” Parker shook his head as he watched the flux fade from his instruments, leaving all scanners nominal.

They were still tracking the unknown gravity fluctuation, of course, it hadn’t been eliminated by a simple course change, but now at least it was no longer screwing with the calibrations of their systems.

“Who?”

“Major Aida,” Parker said as he glanced up to see a Senior Navy Hand approaching.

Sr NavHand Miller made an instant face, “The Jinx? What did she do?”

“Don’t call her that,” Parker growled, “and she pinned down that gravity flux we’ve been hunting for the last hour.”

“How the hell did she do that? Where is she?” Miller looked around, “I didn’t see her here.”

“She did it from her room,” Parker shook his head, “I don’t know what they crammed into that lady’s skull, but it’s more accurate than anything we’ve got here.”

“Our instruments are the size of frigging elephants, Lieutenant,” Miller scowled, “I know she’s some special forces bitch, but there’s no way that their toys are that advanced.”

Parker just shrugged, “All I know is that she called up complaining about it, told us to adjust our position so she could get some sleep.”

Miller just stared at him for a long moment before finally blurting, “Are you frigging kidding me?”

“Nope.”

“That’s not even humanly possible.”

“Look, all I know,” Parker said, again “Is that she’s called us twice now, and locked down the flux both times. She’s more accurate than the shipboard accelerometers by at least a factor of ten. If we see action on this run, I hope she’s on the bridge telling the Captain what direction to steer because I bet she could beat the computers to locating the zero of a singularity assault.”

Miller shook his head, mumbling something about Sorilla being a freak under his breath. Parker let it pass, he was aware of her reputation on board ship, but didn’t put much stock in the paranoid delusions that some were passing off as ‘tradition’.

So far, in his admittedly limited interactions with the lady, he’d been impressed every shot.

That was enough for him.

Chapter Sixteen

The next ship-day, the Mexico was almost literally abuzz with the combined motion of practically ever crewmember rushing about to make things perfect for the arrival of the alien diplomats. Never mind that basically no one on board liked the aliens, most would have happily dropped a few of the gigaton nukes on the station and sailed off whistling, but that didn’t matter. This was as matter of pride, both as representatives of humanity and the more important shipboard pride as a crewmember of the Mexico.

Decks were swabbed, inspections were inspected, and anything out of place was put back in… with a hammer, if necessary.

As the Admiral had said the day before, putting on a show was one of the things that the crew of any Navy ship… be it brown, blue, or black Navy… did best.

Sorilla found herself once more in her SOLCOM dress blacks, with only the forest green berets and medals to provide any sort of color to the figure she cut. She’d have done away with the medals too, if it were her option, but the Berets and emblem was one thing they’d have to shoot her to remove.

As they were waiting for the diplomatic shuttle to arrive, she allowed herself a moment to close her eyes and lean on a bulkhead, hiding a grimace as she felt the first twinges of nausea forming deep in her guts. Whoever was messing with the gravity fields nearby was at it again, and he was really riding on her last nerve.

“You alright, Major?”

“Yes Sir,” Sorilla straightened to attention, recognizing the Admiral’s voice.

She should have seen his approach on her HUD, but had been distracted.

“What’s wrong?”

“Ghost gravity signal is back, someone keeps moving it around,” She said, barely managing not to growl. “I’d like five minutes with that jackass… pardon the language, Admiral.”

“I’ve heard worse,” Ruger said, musingly. He’d heard about the ghost signal, of course, it made it into his daily reports but no one had pinned it down yet. His knowledge of Major Aida’s implants was far from complete, but he was surprised that she could sense it so clearly. “I didn’t know your accelerometers were so sensitive, Major.”

“Technically, they’re not,” She said, sighing. “the white sheet specs only put them around twenty percent better than standard issue portable units, and in truth they may not be that good.”

“I don’t understand,” Ruger frowned.

Standard issue portable units were decent, but he knew for a fact that there was zero percent chance that they’d be able to differentiate the ghost signal from the Mexico’s own singularity. There was just too much interference, even with full diagnostics off the Mexico’s reactor you couldn’t pick out a signal as tight as the ghost was proving to be short of multiple shipboard units, and even those were spotty.

“Were you briefed on the implant suite I use?” She asked.

“Yes, neural link instead of the near field tech that’s become standardized.”

“Right, well there was an unexpected complication using neural paths for communication,” She told him. “The neurons are marginally faster, and completely secure… there’s zero percent chance my systems could be jammed short of killing me.”

Ruger snorted, “That seems like a good way to ‘jam’ any system.”

“Yeah, it’d do the job,” Sorilla smiled tightly, “however there was a… let’s call it a complication, Sir.”

“What sort?”

“the hardware interfaces with my wetware,” She tapped the side of her skull, “outside cleared channels. Basically, my brain has adapted to the signals running through my neural system and is processing them faster… and better… than my CPU can.”

Ruger whistled softly, “Better? Really?”

“Yes sir. I can actually feel the distinct pulls from multiple vectors, instead of just the total vector combination,” She told him, “Even the biggest shipboard accelerometers take seconds, at best, to cut up the vectors based on known data. Somehow, my brain does it almost instantly, without access to a database of known gravity sources.”

Ruger stared at her for a long moment before finally blurting, “Why did they let you out of the lab?”

She snorted, “Because it didn’t happen when they turned it on. The system worked as advertised for months or more, until my brain started decoding the military encryption used in the implants.”

Ruger groaned, that alone sounded like pure fiction. He knew the specs on those systems, and they were so complicated that the best computers in existence couldn’t decode them in any practical time period. The idea that they could be cracked by accident, rankled his professionalism to say the least.

“Since then it’s been getting… stronger,” Sorilla admitted.

“Amazing,” Ruger said, “I’m surprised you haven’t been pulled off into a lab somewhere.”

“They did all their tests, couldn’t find anything.” Sorilla shrugged, “one Doc wanted to yank my implants, but during the war my experience was more valuable.”

I wonder who made that decision?, Ruger mused, he wouldn’t have let her out into the field until he knew exactly what was going on in her head.

Sorilla glanced over at him, easily reading the Admiral’s expression and body language even before her implants filled her in on the same.

“Relax, it’s not like I broke the encryption key, Sir. Somehow I just subconsciously recognize the patterns.” She said, “They took all their scans, and I’m sure someone is working on repeating it even now.”

“I hope so,” Ruger said, “because if it gets out that it can be done, I have no doubt the Russians and the Chinese will throw every warm body they can at it themselves.”

“Probably,” Sorilla admitted, “but they’d still need to jack someone’s wetware into a neural implant, and SOLCOM doesn’t even make those anymore except in a few small labs. You can’t crack broadcast encryption this way, and it takes months at least to even start basic pattern recognition.”

“I suppose,” Ruger admitted after a moment’s thought.

Put that way he realized that it was a seemingly huge development that actually had very little practical application, as things were currently run. Sure it did the impossible, but it did it in such a way that you almost couldn’t do anything with the results.

Very strange.

Also, he had to admit, that the continuing development of the implants and their interface with Aida was far more interesting. Looked at it that way, having her out and about, gaining as much experience with gravity sources as possible, made sense. Eventually, though, there was no question that they were going to have to break that secret and figure out exactly how it was that she did what she did.

Ruger shook his head clear as a whistle sounded, alerting him to the arrival of the alien diplomacy team.

“Alright, Major. Enough shop talk,” He told Sorilla, “Time to get back to work.”

“Aye Sir,” She said, a little more grimly that the situation warranted, but he let it go.

She was obviously dealing with problems of her own.

*****

The massive airlock on the Mexico’s hangar bar cycled smoothly, permitting the alien ship access to the pressurized section. Sorilla had seen the alien’s combat shuttles in action in previous encounters, but this was probably the first time she’d see one of their VIP transports.

The ship was bulky, large for a personnel transport in her estimation, with the chunky lines of something never designed to enter the atmosphere. Instead it seemed optimized for cargo capacity, if she were to judge just based on the exterior.

It rolled to a stop on a gantry slide, locking into place with a metallic clang that reverberated for several long moments before the large lock on the ship itself hissed and began to open.

The crew of the Mexico was arrayed in ranks, standing at attention as the heavy doors slid open to reveal the first rank of the Alliance diplomacy team.

“Atten-Hut!”

The call went out as the first member of the Alliance team stepped off the ship and set foot on the deck of the Mexico, causing every member of the SOLCOM ship’s crew to snap to salute as one. Over three hundred men and women moved in sync, the sound of their motion startlingly loud in the large bay.

The Alliance people had seen it before, of course, but a few of them shifted nervously as they disembarked and walked down the center line to where the Ambassador and Admiral were waiting.

“Welcome back aboard the Mexico, Ambassador.” Admiral Ruger said as the Alliance delegation approached. “We’ve cleared one of the Observation Struts, I believe you’ll enjoy the facilities. The view is magnificent.”

“Thank you, Admiral.” The Alliance Ambassador said stiffly, not looking especially happy to be on the Mexico, but certainly unwilling to show or admit as much. He turned stiffly and nodded to the human Ambassador in greeting, “Ambassador.”

“It’s a pleasure to have you on board again.”

Ruger let the two diplomats do their thing, turning half away to sweep the delegation with an intense stare. The alien they’d identified as a commando was apparently there, along with another that they had tentatively labeled as an Intelligence Officer.

He couldn’t pick up any signs of overt tension from either of them, not beyond the normal paranoia he might expect at least, so he assumed that their investigation of the terrorist attack had gone as well as could be expected. With luck they’d be able to wrap things up in the next day or two, sign the treaty, and turn the bow of the Mexico for home.

*****

“Remember, give them time to settle in before you make your move.”

The old Parithalian nodded resolutely, he knew his orders. “We will move on schedule, have no concerns.”

“We are on an alien battleship, surrounded by people who have been killing us for some time, I have many concerns and I believe I will keep them until we are done.”

“Of course. I apologize.”

“Do not apologize. Finish your task. It should not have come to this. This is the least likely of all our options to do what we need, but because you failed, it is the only chance we have left open to us.”

The elder Parithalian looked away from his superior, not saying anything.

“If this doesn’t work, everything we’ve done… everything we lost, and are going to lose, will be for nothing. NOTHING!” The man screamed, “I don’t know how your Gods deal with failures, but mine are not so forgiving as one might think. So finish your task, and in your last moments pray to your wind gods that this does as we hope… or I swear to my own that I will personally rise up from whatever tortures my fate has for me and drag you down into the singular abyss with me. Am I quite clear?”

“Yes, you are.”

“Good. Now wait until the talks are fully underway. Most of the humans will be back to their normal routines then.”

The elder Parithalian nodded his thin head, not saying another word. It wasn’t the time, and it certainly wasn’t the place for any discussion.

His superior just snorted and walked out of the transport and into the Terran ship beyond.

*****

Sorilla watched as the people filtered out of the hangar bay, her eyes remaining locked on the alien ship. There was something about it that was making her feel… wrong, somehow. She just couldn’t work out what it was.

Probably just don’t like being this close to Alliance equipment, let alone have it on another ship that I’ve been assigned to, she finally decided.

She was far from stupid, and she didn’t like to think of herself as blinded even to her own faults, so Sorilla was well aware that she had… issues with the Alliance. The loss of the Los Angeles had largely been masked by the more immediate threat and deaths of her squad, but over the run of the war she’d taken a few too many of those large and often abstract losses.

Jane Mackay hadn’t been a friend, not exactly, but she’d been something of a distant mentor. The Captain of the Hood had been one of those rare people who not only cared about everyone under her command, but was able to make the whole crew feel it. Her loss, and the loss of the entire command structure of the Hood over Hayden had been a brutal blow.

The loss of Admiral Brooke, however, had almost destroyed a part of Sorilla that she hadn’t even known was there.

One thing she knew, she couldn’t take another hit like that. Not and remain in the military, Sorilla just couldn’t do that again.

She turned her back on the ship, walking toward the main lift area that would bring them all up to the observation spires of the Mexico. She knew that the Captain and Admiral had gone well out of their way to roll out the proverbial red carpet for this particular set of meetings, so she figured she should put in an appearance at least.

It would look odd if she didn’t, even though there was very little she could personally do while they were meeting on the Mexico. Her mission was largely complete anyway, Sorilla had already put together most of her report on potential vulnerabilities in the Alliance political structure. There were at least three worlds within reasonable jump range where enough trouble could be fomented to give the Alliance a real headache and draw considerable assets away from their front line deployments.

If SOLCOM elected to go with any of her recommendations, Sorilla wanted to personally take one of the missions. It would be good to get back to doing the job she had spent her whole career training for, rather than the straight combat missions she’d worked during the war or the Intelligence op she was currently on.

In any case, her part of the current mission was effectively complete, putting in a showing at the meeting would just serve to seal her cover as part of the security detail. There was no point in giving them any free intelligence if she could avoid it, after all.

Sorilla didn’t notice one of the Alliance personnel on the ship behind her staring at her back as the doors closed behind her and she began the run to the observation spire.

*****

“That was her.”

“Leave it be, she’s not our concern.” The elder Parithalian said.

“She murdered our comrades, brothers…”

“And she will die for that, very shortly in fact. Focus on the task,” was the order, “we have an important one to complete, and we must not fail.”

“I won’t fail.”

“Good, then ready the weapon. We are not far from the target location here, but we are not close enough, either. The plans made during the war show that this class of ship has a singularity eight decks beneath us. We will have to get there, and I do not believe the Terrans will be overly anxious to allow that.”

“What they allow is not my concern, the weapon is ready, Master.”

“Then deploy it.”

Chapter Seventeen

The diplomats were doing what they did best.

Talking.

Not like normal people either, no that wouldn’t do for a discussion of this high a level, Sorilla mused to herself as she listened. No, they were using double talk, weasel words, and every lawyer speak trick in the book to make themselves completely and utterly impossible to understand.

She had heard it all before, though she had to admit not normally from this close or on this elevated level of the art form that was diplo double speak. Normally she dealt with the slum lords of the diplomatic world, Intelligent assets brokering backroom deals to get weapons into places that weapons weren’t legally supposed to go… occasionally local religious figures who wanted their cut before they would endorse the “people’s movement”, and other forms of filth.

This was respectable, unlike her normal experiences.

She was amused by how many of the words and phrases uttered by such respectable people were variations of those used by the scum she had dealt with most of her adult life. Oh, the threats were more subtle, the language more flowery, but the meaning was the same.

The Alliance and SOLCOM ambassadors were jockeying for position, each trying to prove that they represented the alpha of the neighborhood. The funny thing here was that it was the first time Sorilla had ever been in a room where it seemed that neither side was really certain just who the alpha was.

Usually there was a fairly good idea that both sides acknowledged on that point, even if only tacitly. At first, when Sorilla had walked into the rooms back on the station, she had gone in thinking that SOLCOM was clearly holding the short end of the stick, the Alliance was the clear alpha… however, as she began getting a feel for the alien language… particularly their unspoken cues, she began to realize that they weren’t as sure of that as she was.

That uncertainty on the side of the Alliance was probably what was dragging these talks out as far as they were. Neither side was going for the throat the way they would if they were more confident in their position, despite Sorilla’s advice to the Admiral and Ambassador.

Not that she was an expert, so she couldn’t blame them for not listening to her on the subject.

It did mean that now, after the eighth time of listening to them go over the same section of the proposed treaty, Sorilla was beginning to lose interest in the whole process.

The fact that she was still being plagued by that damned burr in the local gravity wasn’t helping the situation much either.

Her lack of attention abruptly came to a halt as the Mexico’s computers reported a power loss on the lower decks, however, and Sorilla stiffened in her seat as her eyes glowed red with the reports scrolling past her implants.

*****

The entire deck was plunged into total blackness, save for distant showers of sparks from some unshielded systems, sending up a pulse of panic through the majority of the hangar bay’s occupants. In the Alliance ship, however, a calm certainty held sway instead.

“Put your vision enhancers on, it’s time.” The Elder Parithalian said, pulling a bulky pair of goggles over his face.

His team followed suit and soon they were stepping out of the ship and onto the deck of the Terran starship for the first time.

“The access doors are this way, Master,” One of them said, nodding toward the far wall. “The ship appears to be identical in layout to the one captured during the war.

The Elder nodded, thankful for that at least. Most Alliance ships were built similarly in concept, of course, but there were some species who considered every single vessel a work of art. Even they couldn’t find their way around their own ships without considerable effort.

The group moved through the confused Terrans, most of whom were feeling blindly around the darkness, trying to discover why the ship had been plunged into near total blackness. Behind them, on the deck of the Alliance ship, a smoking one shot weapon rested as both the answer to their question and a warning of what was to come.

*****

Sorilla leaned over to where Ruger was sitting, “Power blackout, six decks above and below the landing bay, Sir.”

Ruger scowled, “That’s… oddly specific.”

“Has to be an EMP, sir. A big one.” Sorilla voiced.

“The ship is hardened, Major.”

“Yes, but most of the shielding is in the hull plates,” Sorilla countered, “If you got an EMP inside, like in a shuttle?”

Ruger closed his eyes, “Damn it. Is this their plan? Did the Alliance intend…”

“I doubt it, but I think it’s safe to say that they’re security is either a lot worse than we expected, or they’ve been infiltrated by this rebel faction.”

“Same thing,” Ruger growled, “I’m telling the Captain to put the Marines on it.”

“Permission to take a look for myself, Sir?” Sorilla asked, “I’d like one of them alive, if possible.”

Ruger shot her a look, then went pensive for a moment before nodding with a wry smile, “Still on mission, are we, Major?”

Sorilla stood up, “I was told to look for cracks in the Alliance structure, Sir. This is one hell of a crack.”

“Just keep it from splitting us wide open. Go.”

“Yes sir.” Sorilla said before she turned and walked calmly out of the room.

*****

“Where is she going?”Sienele asked, scowling as the Terran Sentinel walked out. Her speed and body language seemed calm, but there was something off about it all the same.

Kriss grunted, “I’m not sure, but we have an issue ourselves, Sir.”

“What is it?”

“I’ve lost comms with the ship.”

Sienele frowned, “Perhaps the Terran ship is interfering…”

“No.” Kriss said definitively, “We were in contact until a few moments ago.”

Sienele considered that, his mind going over what just happened, and then he froze.

“Sentinel Kriss…”

“Yes?”

“I require that you return to the ship, re-establish communications, and secure it until these discussions are complete.” He ordered firmly.

“Secure it? You think the Terrans…”

“No, I do not.” Sienele said sharply, “Just go. Contact me as soon as you’ve done as I bade.”

“As you order.” Kriss said, getting up. He glanced to the Terran guards at the door, “They will have me watched, of course.”

“If what I suspect is true, they’ll not let you leave alone at all. That, however, doesn’t matter. Go.”

Kriss clapped his arm over his chest and retreated from the table, heading for the door of the large observation deck.

*****

Sorilla met a squad of Marines In the lift on Deck 30, ten decks above the blackout zone. They were loaded for bear and had active night vision systems, the Colonel in charge offered her one. Sorilla shook her head, turning it down.

“The decks are completely blacked out, Major,” Colonel Krieg told her, “Your passive light amplification systems won’t work there.”

“I have thermal as well,” She answered, “plus you lot are going to be pumping more than enough infrared around for me to see with. You know the mission?”

“Recon the flight deck, secure the alien transport, and determine the cause of the blackout.” Krieg answered, smirking, “not our first rodeo, Major.”

Sorilla nodded, “Let’s do this, then.”

The lift doors closed and they began the drop to the flight deck, taking only seconds to traverse the sixteen decks in between. The doors opened onto blackness, only the lights in the elevator casting any sort of illumination beyond but the deck was so large that they may as well have been candles in the abyss.

“Infrareds on!” Krieg ordered, pulling his goggles down. “Move out.”

The group stepped out into the darkness, letting the doors close behind them. Only a faint green glow could be seen from their night vision systems, and a fainter glow from Sorilla’s own eyes as she activated her own passive implants.

The flight deck was enormous, it had to be to house space craft large and powerful enough to land on a planet and then return to orbit, but the immediate effect was that even with the powerful infrared floodlights carried by the Marines, they couldn’t pierce the cloak of darkness that enveloped the area.

“Alien ship is straight ahead,” Sorilla said, “We should check that first.”

The Colonel nodded, “You lot heard the lady, take it by the numbers. We still don’t know what caused this mess.”

Sorilla, who was examining the scene through her implants as well as her eyes, wasn’t so sure of that.

We’ve got no signs of any EM fields in the entire deck, aside from what we’re carrying. Something blew out every power sources for six decks in either direction. That’s not an accident.

Sorilla didn’t recognize the weapon in question, but it was clear to her that someone had popped off some form of EMP device on the flight deck.

“There’s the alien ship,” A Marine spoke up, nodding ahead of them.

Sorilla looked as the ship loomed out of the darkness, now reflecting some of the infrared light from the floods back.

“No sign of anyone on board,” Another marine said as they closed enough to see into the open hold of the ship.

Sorilla didn’t reply, she just stepped up onto the boarding ramp and walked into the ship.

“Major, it may not be my place, but are you sure you should be going in there?” Colonel Krieg asked sternly. He knew that he was technically in charge, but was also aware that Aida had her own orders from on high.

“Worst they’ll do now is blacklist me from entry into Alliance space,” Sorilla said as she continued up the ramp, “The treaty negotiations are almost done.”

The Marines spread out and took up posts around the entry to the ship while Krieg hesitated a moment, the followed the Major into the ship. He found Sorilla kneeling in front of an unfamiliar device, one that looked scorched and smelled of smoke.

“What is it?” He asked, standing behind her.

“No idea,” Sorilla admitted, “never seen one before, but I’m betting it’s an advanced EMP device.”

“It is a microgravity pulse weapon.”

Krieg and Sorilla spun, weapons snapping up to cover a figure that had just appeared across the other side of the ship’s hold. Sorilla instantly recognized the stout figure, making her take a step back to clear more distance between them as she centered her pistol on him.

“You.” She muttered.

Sentinel Kriss just crossed his arms, staring back, “I could say the same, Sentinel.”

“You two know each other?” Krieg asked dryly, his own rifle not wavering from where it was covering the alien commando.

“Oh, intimately, you might say,” Kriss said in passable English, “She killed several of my team on that world of yours, I believe you call it Hayden? Normally I’d be… angry about that? However we were trying to kill her at the time.”

“I wasn’t sure if you recognized me,” Sorilla admitted.

“You left an impression.”

“Yeah, yeah, the homecoming is sweet and all,” Krieg interrupted, “but I think we have business here. What did you do?”

Kriss spared him only a momentary glance before refocusing on Sorilla, “I didn’t do this. Neither did any official group, this weapon is highly secret and was not issued to anyone on the diplomatic team.”

Sorilla pursed her lips, annoyed, “Your Alliance is looking a lot shakier than ever. If these dissidents could get cleared into a diplomatic mission like this…”

“I know,” Kriss admitted, “this is a concern, a very great one.”

“How did you get down here anyway,” Krieg demanded, “You were in the chambers, weren’t you?”

Sorilla snorted, “I expect he got down here the same way he escaped the America, through the engineering access to the lift. Isn’t that right, Sentinel Kriss?”

Kriss snorted, “We did map this particular ship design quite carefully when we had the chance.”

“Yes, I’m sure you did.” Sorilla grumbled, “and I have to assume that if you have it, so do our uninvited guests.”

“That’s probably a good bet.”

Krieg grimaced, “That’s just great. Your Alliance security has more holes than swiss cheese.”

“Swiss what?” Kriss looked perplexed.

“Never mind. What matters now is just what do they intend to do,” Sorilla said, “This group is trying to kill your ambassador, but there’s no way they get through our security.”

“Agreed.” Kriss said, stepping forward to kick over the device on the deck between them. “and that presents us with a very large problem.”

“What are you talking about?”

“This device is considered highly secret,” Kriss said, “even using one against you is probably grounds for execution, the Alliance would have preferred that you never learn of this technology. For them to use it, for them to even have it, means they know that quite well… and I expect they plan to eliminate all witnesses.”

“So that means they plan to take us all out this time,” Sorilla growled, thinking furiously, “so the best plan they’ve got is… Oh shit.”

Krieg looked sharply over at her, “Major?”

“We’ve been monitoring a stray gravity source since the day these yahoos did their assault on the council the first time,” Sorilla said, “We thought it was a ship, but never could figure out which one. It’s still here, but… it’s almost in sync with our own core now.”

Kriss stiffened, “You’re sure of this?”

Sorilla nodded, “They’re transporting a space warp device, aren’t they?”

“It is possible. To activate such fully in the presence of a ship’s core, such as that on your vessel… the results would be destructive.” Kriss said dryly.

“I get the feeling that you’re understating that,” Sorilla turned, “Time to go, Colonel. We need to get down to the Core’s engineering section before it’s too late.”

Krieg nodded, retreating from the alien ship to dispatch orders to his team. Sorilla started after him, then spared a glance at Kriss.

“You coming?”

Kriss shot her an amused look, but followed her out of the ship and onto the flight deck beyond. The Marines shot him distrusting looks and he saw their weapons twitch in his direction more than once, but Kriss explicitly ignored them.

“Are you sure about this, Major?” Krieg asked, eyeing the alien balefully.

“I’d rather have him where I can see him, Colonel.” Sorilla said simply, “Besides, we don’t have anyone else who can decode their tech.”

“Very well,” Krieg reluctantly agreed, shooting orders through his implants to four of his squad.

The four men in question tightened the grip on their weapons and turned their entire focus on Kriss. They wouldn’t be letting the alien command out of their sights anytime soon.

“We need to stop at the armory,” Sorilla went on as they walked, “break out heavier kit. Without knowing how well the enemy is setup, we’d best assume the w…”

Her last word was torn from her throat as she was drive to one knee by a sudden slamming force slapping her down. Around her, the others all joined her on the deck, some being spread flat out and some barely keeping to their knees. Only Kriss stayed standing, and he was clearly doing so with significant effort.

A rumble through the deck of the ship announced the firing of the VASIMR drive and in an instant the force was gone. Sorilla and the others slowly got back to their feet, looking around.

“What the hell was that?” A marine asked, swinging his rifle about as if looking for something to shoot.

“Gravity surge,” Sorilla gasped out, her implants filling her in on the environmental changes, “Something’s interfering with the spacetime warp in the forward singularity. It’s at eight gravities and climbing. Fast.”

“How the hell are we standing then?” Krieg demanded.

“The Mexico’s computer kicked in the VASIMR drive,” Sorilla filled him in, “The only thing keeping us from being flattened now is the acceleration of the ship. We need to get the singularity back under control, and we need to do it fast.”

“How long do we have?”

Sorilla started moving as she crunched the numbers, “Current rates? The singularity will exceed four hundred gravities in twenty minutes… we’ll be a smear on the deck three minutes after that.”

Krieg shook his head, “You heard the lady! Move it!”

The broke into a jog, heading for the lift, as Krieg called to the bridge.

*****

Hiro Usagi was not a happy man.

The Captain of the Mexico had a nasty gash along his scalp from where he’d been slammed into a console when the gravity acted up. He could tell from the blood that he was going to need stitches, but didn’t have time to worry about that just then.

“Engineering! What the hell is wrong with my ship?”

The poor Ensign at the engineering station looked like he’d take a hit to the face as well in the jerk, but was clearly more flustered by his Captain’s voice than any pain he was currently enduring.

“Unknown, Captain! No reports from the warp control stations!”

“Well get a report from them!” Hiro growled, wiping blood from his eyes. “Someone get me a bandage or a rag, hell I’ll settle for some crazy glue.”

A young crewman ran up with a first aid kit in her hands, “Just hold still a moment, Captain, I’ll…”

“Message from Colonel Krieg, Sir!”

Hiro twisted away from the crewman trying to bandage his head, “What does he want?”

The Lieutenant at the comm board paled, “Sir. Krieg reports probable infiltrators on board, the blackout around the flight deck was caused by an EMP from the alien ship. His team, Major Aida, and one of the Alliance Security Officers are proceeding to Engineering.”

Hiro gaped at him for a moment, “Say that last part again.”

The Lieutenant stammered out the words a second time, causing Hiro to seethe.

He wasn’t one to second guess the decisions of his people in the field, even if the field was occasionally his own ship in some way, but the very idea of bringing an enemy agent into the Mexico’s spacetime warp control was enough to make Captain Usagi consider section eighting the Colonel in charge of his marines right on the spot.

“That’s what I thought you said,” He ground out, “Please relay to Colonel Krieg my concern over the… composition of his detachment.”

“A… aye, Captain.”

Given the seriousness of the situation, and his lack of immediate intelligence on what exactly the hell was going on, Hiro would leave it at that for the moment. Hopefully someone down there hadn’t lost their ever loving mind and actually knew what they were doing.

Hopefully.

“And get the teams moving on restoring power to the affected areas!”

Chapter Eighteen

The armory was black as the deepest depths of space, but for the humans that was of little import as their equipment flooded the room with infrared light that they could easily see. Kriss didn’t say anything as he followed along with them, though he supposed that they would probably guess quickly enough that Lucians could see well into that part of the light spectrum as well.

Heat was a common vision type among Alliance races, actually, in varying forms so the human’s flood lights worked well enough for his needs. His attention was brought to the Terran sentinel, however, as she immediate began to shuck clothing as she walked through the armory. He wasn’t familiar with terran habits, but most races would find this a particularly odd time to find a driving desire for nudity.

His curiosity was answered when she snapped open a pair of locks and opened a cabinet to reveal a discomfortingly familiar piece of equipment within.

“Are you sure that will work, Major?”

Sorilla didn’t look back as she stepped out of her undergarments and pulled open the chest plate of the armor. “It should. SOLCOM armor is hardened, of course, but it was also powered down and in a launch box.”

She turned around, then stepped back into the armor one piece at a time. It closed around her as she settled in, flooding slowly with the heavily oxygenated blue gel that served multiple purposes. Sorilla shivered slightly, the chill raising goosebumps on her skin and incidentally flashing the marines a more exciting picture of her chest than she’d have preferred before the armor closed entirely, but she was long since inured to embarrassment over body image issues.

“Shows over,” She told them as she pulled her helmet on, “grab some guns and gear, we’ve got a job to do.”

“Major’s right. Move it, Marines,” Colonel Krieg ordered, “The clock is ticking, unless you jarheads want to try a new career as modern art spread across the decks.”

Her armor booted up on demand, a gentle whirr of motion sending a shudder through her body as Sorilla stepped out of the launch crate and looked around the room. She grabbed a pair of M-Tacs instead of one of the heavier assault rifles, sliding them into cross draw holsters before grabbing a full ammo case and flipping it over her shoulder and locking it into the armor’s hard points on her back.

The metalstorm pistols would serve her far better in the enclosed corridors of the ship than a full battle rifle ever could, since most of the hard hitting power of the rifle didn’t even reach maximum efficacy until three hundred yards plus. She absently logged into the CPU of both pistols, linking them to her armor and implants with a thought while the Marines kitted themselves out with better armor and weapons than they’d retrieved from their go-room.

“We’re ready, Sir,” One of the marines said to Colonel Krieg.

“Alright, let’s move em out.”

*****

“What the hell is going on?”

The near panic in the voice of the Engineering Chief was enough to powerfully underline just how had the situation had become. A short time earlier the entire system that managed the powerful spacetime warp apparatus that provided the Mexico with one half the equation that allowed them to achieve such great accelerations had gone completely berserk. Nearly flattening everyone on the deck and, they assumed, the rest of the ship as well the on duty crew had so thrown themselves into trying to correct the problem that they had only now realized that all the comms were dead.

“Alright, alright… let me think for a minute,” Chief Harrowitz grumbled, forcing himself to calm down. “Jacks!”

“Yes Chief?”

“I need a runner,” Horrowitz ordered, “Get in the lift and ride it up, right to the bridge if you have to, get in contact with the Captain and tell him what’s going on down here.”

“You got it, Chief!” Jacks said before running off.

“Parker!”

The next crewman stepped up, “Yes Chief?”

“I need readings on the core,” He said, “Pull the external diagnostics gear, I don’t trust what I’m seeing here.”

“On it.”

That, Harrowitz decided, was the core of the problem. What he was seeing on his scans didn’t make any sense at all, and he just couldn’t trust that his instruments weren’t faulty somehow. As best he knew there wasn’t enough power in the entire system to have done what he knew had been done, which meant that either he and everyone around him had lost their senses, his instruments were faulty, or something was so very much more wrong than should be possible that he was really hoping that he and his entire crew had just gone loco.

Unfortunately, Harrowitze was pretty near certain that he just wasn’t that lucky.

*****

Sorilla scowled as she marched down the corridor, they were now out of the blackout zone, on the first of seven Engineering decks, and the place was a madhouse. She supposed that she shouldn’t be surprised, a major fault with the warp systems would be something sure to be taken seriously. Still, she grabbed the nearest man in Engineering green as he tried to go around the armed group.

“What’s going on down here?” She growled, making him pale and look like he dearly wanted to crawl into one of the maintenance shafts and pull the door shut behind him.

“We don’t know, Ma’am!” He stammered out, “Something is interfering with the singularity! The computer is running on automatic, and we can’t shut any of it down!”

Sorilla let him go, “Have you seen any of the Alliance races on these decks?”

“The Aliens ma’am?” The Engineer blurted, eyes sliding over to where Kriss was standing silently, “Just that one.”

“Get back to your duties.”

Happily willing to comply with those order the man scrambled around them and bolted down the hall. Sorilla glanced back, “We need to figure out where they’re hiding. Sentinel Kriss, do you have any idea what they’re using?”

“I am no expert on gravity drives,” The Lucian admitted, “however I have been trained on gravity weapons. One such is used to destabilize a drive, normally to force it from Jump Space as you call it. It can also be used to cause a drive to collapse on itself, however that it rarely an option as it requires much closer positioning to the drive.”

“How close?” Krieg demanded, calling up a schematic of the ship on a tablet one of his men handed him.

Kriss started to answer, then paused as he realized that he didn’t know any form of measurement that would mean anything to the Terrans. He considered for a moment, then looked over the shoulder of the Colonel and pointed, “No farther than that.”

Krieg whistled, “That’s close. We’re talking… twenty meters, not much more than four decks. Still a lot of space to cover, unfortunately.”

“They had to go somewhere they could control,” Sorilla pointed out, “otherwise we’d have reports of aliens coming out our ears.”

“Maybe not,” Krieg shook his head, “Power may be on here, but comms are down.”

Sorilla tilted her head, considering that. Taking out the ship’s internal WAN was easy enough, she supposed. The Wireless Access Network could be jammed the same as almost any wireless communication system. The hardline network, however, was a very different story. Barring a few nearly apocalyptic methods, she could only assume that they’d managed to disable the major nodal points in the optical fibres.

The problem with that theory was that the ship used a very similar network design to the one in use by SOL system’s information grid, and that was designed specifically to route around blacked out nodes as seamlessly as possible.

Come to think of it, that EMP of their’s shouldn’t have taken out through comms in the first place. Optical signals don’t give a damn how much energy you pulse through the area, so what the hell did they do?

“Sentinal Kriss,” She spoke, turning in the Lucian’s direction, “How would you disable communications on a ship like this?”

Kriss stared into the blank helm of the woman across from him, considering the question and his response carefully.

“That would depend,” He said finally, “With their, presumably, small numbers and need to remain hidden… I would likely be forced to use a combat algorithm, anything else would attract too much attention.”

“Combat…” Sorilla trailed off, “A hack. You wrote exploits for our hardware…”

She shook her head, “Of course you did. Colonel, who’s your best commtech?”

“Evans, front and center!” Krieg snapped.

Corporal James Evans stepped forward automatically, “Sir!”

“The enemy has most likely introduced an exploit into our hardline systems, likely the ship based wireless network as well,” Sorilla told him, “Can you find it?”

“Ma’am, an exploit like that would need to be introduced through a specific terminal,” Evans said, thinking furiously. “You would need to hardline it in, or the network wouldn’t accept it and you’d only knock out one node.”

“In that he is correct,” Kriss affirmed, “Our procedure was to pick from one of approximately thirty such terminals on the ship.”

“Alright, how many on this deck?” Sorilla asked, very cognizant of the ticking clock they were under.

“Three,” Evans offered instantly, before Kriss could speak. “Another eight within range of the Warp controls.”

He shrugged apologetically, “We are in Engineering country, Ma’am.”

“Damn. We don’t have time to search them all,” Krieg growled.

Sorilla looked over at Kriss and gestured to the tablet, “Where would you strike?”

The Lucian considered the schematics of the ship while bringing his own version of such to mind as well.

“The weapon they are likely using will function best if they ca get it as close as possible to the core,” He said stiffly, well aware that he was sharing classified intelligence with a people he’d only recently warred against. “I would go… here.”

Sorilla looked over the section on the map, noting that it was two decks below them. If they cut straight there, they’d bypass several other possibilities, but they didn’t have the time to check them all. She hesitated for a second, then nodded firmly.

“Colonel, I think we should go for it.”

The Marine Colonel considered it for a moment, but didn’t really have a better option. He nodded, turning to the commtech, “I want marines hitting every single one of those terminals as fast as they can kit up. We’re taking this one.”

“Yes sir, Colonel!”

“Let’s move.”

*****

Admiral Ruger stood firmly in place, arms clasped behind his back as he looked out through the giant observation windows. The Mexico was still accelerating wildly away from the Alliance world and station, but there were ships pacing them now and he knew that as tense as the situation was one misstep could turn it right back into a shooting war.

And we’re bloody well outnumbered at the moment.

The diplomats had been screaming at each other and, more often, him since the gravity surge damn near broke everyone’s legs. He’d been able to quell that once news got back, but now the mess was literally out of their hands, and he could see the tension starting to get the best of both sides.

“I believe we need to adjourn the discussions until cooler heads prevail,” Ruger said firmly, unwilling to let the future of SOLCOM and Earth ride on diplomats looking to pin blame on someone when they were the only people in sight.

“My people will…”

“Will be our guests until we locate and neutralize the saboteurs you brought on board,” Ruger growled. “If you and your diplomatic team wish to leave, you’ll have to wait until we’ve managed to restore power to the flight deck… which is something I’d like to have words with you about, since you apparently brought a potentially disastrous gravity weapon on board a SOLCOM vessel…”

“We had no idea!” The Ambassador objected.

“That doesn’t make me feel any better, Ambassador. I generally prefer not to work with incompetents.”

“Admiral,” This time it was the human Ambassador who was calming him down, “That isn’t going to help.”

Ruger nodded stiffly, “My apologies, Ambassadors.”

He took a breath, “Unfortunately, we really cannot launch any craft at the moment. Forgetting the danger of launching while under such high acceleration, whatever the saboteurs did completely blew out power for twelve decks, including the flight deck and airlock systems. No one is leaving the Mexico.”

One of the Alliance people stepped forward, putting a hand on their Ambassador to calm him in turn. Ruger recognized him as the potential spy master they’d sussed out early on. He leaned in and whispered in the Ambassador’s ear, far too low to be heard unfortunately. Whatever he said had an effect, however, and the other alien slumped.

“We will wait here for repairs to be made,” Sienele said simply. “Do you have any more news on the situation with the rebel faction?”

“No.” Ruger growled, this time not so much at the company but at the situation. “We have marines searching every area they could have used to slip that exploit into our systems, but they’ve not been found yet.”

“I see,” Sienele said, taking a seat beside the Ambassador. “Hopefully they will be located soon.”

More than you know, Ruger kept that thought to himself.

His eye implant had a clock running, the amount of time they had to live if the assault on the gravity core of the ship wasn’t halted. It was running down far too fast.

Twelve minutes and counting.

*****

The doors of the elevator nearly exploded in their faces as they reached the floor they were interested in.

“Get down!”

Sorilla, Kriss, and the Marines all hit the floor of the, thankfully, large military lift as explosive pulses of energy tore through the air where they had been.

“I’ve got eight of them on my HUD,” Sorilla called, drawing one of her pistols. “Hold one!”

“Holding.” Krieg growled.

Sorilla pressed herself against the wall, trying to stay out of the line of fire, but slowly pushed her weapon around the edge and looked through the camera on the gun itself to determine the positions of the enemy.

“Eight confirmed. Haloing targets.” She said, tagging the enemy and then sending the data to the Marines.

“Roger. We have Halos,” Krieg replied, “Kirk, Bradly… they’re yours.”

The two marines crawled forward, pushing their rifles ahead of them. Using Sorilla’s targeting data they just pointed the weapons in the general direction and kept their own heads down.

“Sending!” Kirk Barret called, just before the two man fire team pulled the trigger on their weapons.

The heavy automatic cannons roared, shaking everyone in the enclosed space to the bone as both magazines emptied in just seconds. The heavy rounds didn’t have much space for their guidance systems to work in, but there was enough for them to make up for the awkward angle they had to aim from.

“Go! Go! Go!” Krief ordered, “Secure that hall!”

Sorilla was out of the lift before he finished speaking, the Marines hard on her heels. She drew the second pistol in mid sprint, putting both weapons on computer control, trusting her implants to discriminate targets. It wasn’t how she preferred to operate, but in the tight confines of the ship’s corridors, with the clock running down, she didn’t have seconds to waste.

The Marines’ barrage had taken out some of their foes, forcing the rest to hit the ground, and the time it took them to recover was all the time Sorilla had to close the range and eliminate the threat. Her M-Tac pistols barked, sending half inch diameter rounds tearing through the corridor as she ran, but she bother to watch whether they connected or not.

When the first enemy popped his head up, an Alliance pulse cannon already aimed right down the hall at her, Sorilla dropped like a stone. She hit the floor in a foot first slide that barely slowed her motion, and struck the enemy combatant in the skins with a snap kick that broke bones.

She just had a glimpse of his face, the pain and shock that was suddenly eclipsed by a halo of blood as she fire five rounds up into him, then he was gone as she slid past and twisted into a roll that brought her to a stop and to her knees just as he hit the deck and remained unmoving.

Silence fell for a moment as Sorilla checked her six and cleared the corridor.

All the enemy combatants were down, most weren’t moving and the few that were showed no signs of becoming an immediate threat. She rose to her feet, kicking weapons away from the bodies as the Marines ran up around her and secured the area.

“Section clear,” Sorilla said, breaking open both M-Tac weapons with a flick of her wrist, shifting one gun to hold both in her right hand, and ejecting the partially spent barrel assemblies over her shoulder. “I think we’re in the right place, Colonel.”

“Major, the day I need the army to tell me we contacted the enemy is the day I take a walk out on the Mexico’s hull without a suit.” Krieg told her in no uncertain terms as he and Kriss joined them. “We’re down to less than ten minutes, let’s not waste what we’ve got.”

Sorilla nodded, reloading both her weapons before seating them firmly back in the cross draw holster. “This was their tripwire, it’s only going to get worse from here.”

“She is right,” Kriss rumbled, eying the bodies and weapons on the ground. “I see Sturm Gav weapons here, this is bad.”

“What’s so bad about that?” Krieg scowled, “The Sturm are one of the main races in the Alliance, right?”

“Yes, but they do not sell their weapons.” Kriss said, “Like the Ross, very advanced, very… internal. They do not, how is you say it? Play well with others.”

“So these guys have an in with a major power,” Sorilla nodded, “yeah, that’s bad. So, are the Sturm supplying them directly, or is there a black market?”

“That we will find out,” Kriss predicted, “if it is from the black market, then it will not be worse than this. However, Sturm strategic weapons are as bad as those of the Ross.”

Krieg groaned, “The Ross destroyed a planet!”

“Yes, and the Strum stopped them dead in their trajectories.” Kriss said, “Neither race are those even I would care to engage in combat with… and I enjoy combat.”

“The more I learn about your damn Alliance the less I want to have anything to do with the whole lot of you,” Krieg muttered, shaking his head. “Alright. Let’s move, we have a job to do people.”

*****

Horrowitz stomped over to where Parker had setup the external diagnostics instruments, glaring at the crewman.

“So?” he growled, “What the hell is going on?”

“I don’t know, these readings don’t make any sense.” Parker admitted as he checked the information coming through the sensors.

Harrowitz only had to glance at the display to see that the external systems were showing the same readings as his hard line ones were.

“What the hell is going on, something is causing the core to go nuts.” He said, leaning in. “We’re all dead in eight minutes if we don’t get a handle on this.”

Parker didn’t know what to say to that, it was very much the truth.

“It almost looks like some kind of interference wave,” He said after a moment, “Almost like an inverse wave from what we’d look for if we were surveying a new jump point.”

Chief Harrowitz stared for a moment, jaw dropped, “Holy shit, Parker. That’s exactly what it is…”

Parker frowned, “It can’t be, Chief, there’s no way we’re close enough to any gravity source with enough focus to pop our core like that… and besides, I’ve never even heard of one that could do this! It would have to be a step out of phase with our core, and that’s not even possible!”

“It’s happening, so it’s possible.”

Harrowitz had no patience for arguing over possibilities when he was staring reality in the face, that was the sort of bullshit that belonged in a lab somewhere, not on a ship about to be crushed to the size of a quark.

“Run the numbers again, I’m going to see if I can pinpoint the interference.” He said, clapping Parker on the shoulder, “If this is what it looks like, we might be able to counter it with the Jump Drive.”

Parker twisted, eyes wide, “Sir… Chief, that’s… insane.”

“I know.”

*****

“Well, now,” Hiro heard his First Officer softly say from across the Deck. “That’s an interesting idea.”

“What is that, Commander?”

Commander Karin Seran looked up in his direction, “Chief Harrowitz has a plan, Sir.”

“Is it a good plan?” Hiro asked, walking over.

“Well, it’s not a sane plan,” She countered, “but it might work.”

“I’ll take it,” Hiro said, knowing that they were only minutes away from the destruction of his ship. Insanity had its place, and that place was generally when all the sane options had been exhausted.

Sounds like the time to me.

“He wants to use the Jump Drive to counter the interference that’s spiking our core,” She told him.

Captain Usagi blanked on that for a moment, the sheer concept shutting him down.

“Insane?” He finally gasped out, “That’s not insane, that’s…”

Honestly, he didn’t have a name for what that was.

He shook his head, “Will it work?”

“I don’t know,” the Commander admitted, “the Jump drives weren’t designed to manipulate space time on that level. We’re talking about a fine control of space time beyond anything we’ve ever attempted. Jump Drives were designed like bulldozers, but the level of control this needs is more like a set of tweezers.”

“So you don’t think it can be done.”

“I’ve seen people control major earth moving equipment like Maestros, Sir,” She told him, “It can be done, that’s not the question. The question is, can the Chief do it?”

Hiro nodded, glancing over at the countdown to the destruction of the Mexico. Seven minutes remaining.

“Tell him to be careful.”

Chapter Nineteen

“Get down!”

Bullets crossed the corridors one way, passing pulse blasts coming back in turn, creating a no man’s land of death and destruction in the middle. Sorilla pressed back against the wall, both weapons in her hands as she considered the options left. They had minutes left before the ships started literally crushing itself like a beer can, them along with it, and the radicals causing the whole mess seemed happy enough to die in the process.

“I hate fundamentalists!” She snarled, “Crazy bastards always more eager to die than fail. Stupid pricks.”

Krieg certainly wasn’t in any mood to disagree, but he chuckled wryly at her tone, “You telling me you’ve never entertained the thought of going out in a blaze of glory, Major?”

“Colonel, my dad raised me on stories of Francis Marion, not tales of Martyrdom,” She countered, “Give me a choice between failure and death, I’ll pick failure any day… I’ve never met a test I couldn’t retake, and I’ve never failed the same test twice.”

“Fair point,” He admitted, “sometimes failure means worse things than death, though.”

“Then it ain’t a choice, is it?” She replied, peeking her gun around the corner and firing a short burst.

“No, Major, I suppose it isn’t.”

“Grenade out!”

They all ducked back, covering as a Marine tossed a frag down the hall and hugged the ground. The explosion tore through the contained space of the ship with the fury of a hurricane, but only lasted a second. Sorilla, protected by her armor, was on her feet and moving almost the instant the shockwave passed.

Advancing in the wake of the explosion, Sorilla’s pistols roared as they spit a hundred rounds apiece into the enemy line before she was dry and had to duck into a doorway.

“Reloading!” She called, cracking her guns open and letting the barrels clatter to the deck.

Taking ground in this kind of fight was always a matter of feet and inches, using cover fire and other methods to force the enemy to blink while you advanced and secured a few bloody paces. It was slow work, however, too slow. Sorilla had the countdown up on her HUD, and the choice between death and failure was rapidly turning into a non-decision.

With her guns reloaded, Sorilla casually flipped the two pistols closed and took a deep breath.

She hummed an old familiar tune, swinging softly to herself as she considered her options.

“Swamp Fox, Swamp Fox, tail on his hat… nobody knows where the Swamp Fox at; Swamp Fox, Swamp Fox, hiding in the glen, He’ll ride away to fight again.” She sung before twisting her lip, and scowling under her helm. “Oh, screw it. You want martyrdom, fine. Let’s be martyrs!”

“Give me some cover,” She called, twisting out of the doorway and breaking into a sprint.

“Major! No!” Krieg called, barely having time to recognize her intent. “Shit! Cover her!”

The hurricane once more descended on the corridors of the Mexico, this time with Sorilla Aida spitting cleanly in its eye.

*****

“Fire up the jump drives,” Captain Usagi ordered, “And wish the Chief good luck.”

He didn’t add that they would all need it, mostly because he didn’t feel like having that on the recorder on the off chance they survived.

“Aye Captain,” Commander Seran said, “Jump drive is coming online…”

There was a low moan, a sound none of them had ever heard on board ship and one that Hiro Usagi could only hope to never hear again. His Mexico had come alive in that moment, and he had no doubt that she was in pain.

“We’ve got gravetic stress all over the ship! Tidal forces are approaching shear tolerance!”

Hiro slapped his hand down on the screen, snarling, “Damn you, Chief! Less bulldozer, more tweezers!”

“Working on it, Skipper!”

Hiro took some solace in the fact that Harrowitz sounded at least as pained as he did, so the Chief clearly didn’t like what he was doing to the ship either. It wasn’t much solace, unfortunately, but there was some to be had.

“As you were then, Chief.”

“Aye aye, skipper!”

There were moments that Hiro hated his position. He’d aspired most of his career to Captain a starship for SOLCOM, but once you were in the hot seat you learned really quickly that the Captain spent most of his time just waiting on other people to do the jobs he assigned them. As a junior officer, he’d never had time to panic in a crisis, but as Captain that seemed the only thing he could do.

Of course, that wasn’t an option, so he just sat there and tried to look calm, confident, and a touch bored.

Oddly, as he well remembered, there was a comfort in seeing your commanding officer looking like he was struggling to stay awake in the middle of a crisis. So long as it didn’t slow down his decision making, at least.

*****

“Parker, ease off on the power to the jump drive,” Harrowitz ordered, “We’re creating tidal sheer that’ll cut us in half if we keep it up.”

“Backing it off, Chief,” Parker said, “I think I’ve got the interference localized. It’s… it’s on the Mexico, Sir.”

“What?”

That didn’t make any sense at all, not to Harrowitz or to anyone else. There were only two sources of space time distortion on the ship large enough to cause this kind of interference, and they were both under control of the Engineering department. They’d know if one of them was out of whack to that sort of extreme, particularly since they were currently using one of the sources to help combat the interference of the other.

“Three decks up from us, Sir.” Parker confirmed, “It doesn’t make any sense, but I think there’s another core on board.”

Saboteurs. I knew they’d been reported, but I thought they had to have hacked our systems… My God, they brought a core onto the ship?

Harrowitz felt pale and sickly as he began to put it together.

Another warp device, a core, could do what they were seeing but the game had just been brought to a new level if he was right.

“This changes things,” He mumbled, thinking it through, “We’re not trying to calm a core out of control, we’re actively engaging an enemy core. I don’t think anyone’s ever thought about how to do that.”

“The Alliance clearly has, Chief,” Parker offered.

“Right. Ok, Let’s start phase shifting the waves, see if that buys us a little time at least.” Harrowitz ordered.

“You got it Chief. Putting pwer to the drives… phase shift by three cycles…”

The Mexico’s reactor whined piteously, just before the ship herself once more groaned under massive stress.

*****

She was three quarters of the way to the enemy line when the ship came alive, groaning it’s protest against whatever treatment it was receiving, and Sorilla felt her guts lurch as her foot failed to contact the deck. The sudden loss of gravity stunned her momentarily as she was flung forward at breakneck speed, right into the enemy ranks.

It would have been her death if not for the fact that not a single one of them were expecting it either.

Sorilla slammed into the floating body of the first of the rebels, tangling with him as she pushed his weapon away and instinctively jammed her own into his chest. The pistol discharged three times as she held on to neutralize the recoil, then flung the enemy corpse away.

Fighting in microgravity was an odd dichotomy of speed and slow motion.

You had to consider every move before you made it, but once made the consequences could be on you in the blink of an eye and with no warning. Sorilla stayed in motion, twisting through the air as she kicked off one rebel, hopefully breaking bones in the process, and instantly grappled with another.

One of her guns was gone, she’d dropped it in order to get a free hand to control her fall, so she proceeded to smash her knees into the upper body and face of her victim, while hugging him close enough that she was glad of the armor between them.

If his species was anything that humans, she had little doubt he’d evacuated himself before she pushed him away.

She was twisting again to get a line on another target when she felt another lurch in her gut and, forwarned, managed to flip in mid air as gravity came rushing back before she slammed into the deck with enough force to drive her down to one knee and plant her free hand to brace herself with.

Four gees. Damn it, what the hell is going on?

Sorilla straightened, a little painfully even with the help of her powered armor, and looked back over her shoulder.

Marines were flat on the deck, most of them clearly in pain as they clutched as limbs that were turned in bad directions. Of the allies she’d come down with, on the Lucian was still standing, and he was slowly stomping in her direction with a strained expression.

“Your crewmates are fighting back,” He said, “clumsily, but they are fighting.”

Sorilla checked the acceleration numbers instinctively and nodded, “You’re right. Acceleration is dropping. How?”

“Countering the enemy manipulations with manipulations of their own,” kriss responded as he stopped beside Sorilla, “it is… delicate work, lest they tear the ship apart in its defense.”

The Mexico chose that moment to groan again, and Sorilla had a sinking feeling that she knew what he meant.

Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, that wasn’t her department. She’d leave that to the people fighting that side of the battle, while she focused on her own.

“We have to shut down the rebels,” She said firmly.

Kriss nodded, “Truth. However, I do not think that your allies will be able to follow you this time.”

Sorilla grimaced, but certainly saw the truth in those words.

“Colonel…” She called, stomping heavily back in the direction of the marines.

“Go!” Krieg ordered, Forcing himself up to his knees. “We’ll follow as we can, but there’s no time.”

Sorilla nodded, turning back. She paused where her fallen M-Tac was and picked it up, the barrel scraping along the deck as the weight of the pistol still managed to surprise her. Full armed once again, she glanced over at Kriss and sized him up for a moment before saying anything.

“What are you waiting for? Pick up a weapon, we’ve got a job to do.”

The alien bared all his plentiful teeth at her before he picked up one of the fallen rebel pulse weapons and checked its charge. The cannon whined in response as Kriss nodded, “As you lead, Sentinel.”

*****

“They’re countering our attack.”

The elder Parithalian could see that, but he restrained the urge to snap at his comrade for belaboring the obvious. That the Terrans could even attempt to counter was a surprise, but it was also clear that they had little idea of what they were doing.

In fact, by his own estimations, they were far more likely to destroy the ship themselves than they were of stopping the attack. No, his concerns were more appropriately centered on the security forces engaging his men. They were the larger of the threats, since they actually might have a chance of stopping the strike before it was completed.

“Continue adjusting to counter their efforts,” He ordered, “We will hold off the assault as long as we can. Finish this. For all our people.”

“For all our people.”

*****

“Damn it!” Parker swore, fingers flying over the control pad for the Jump Drives.

“What is it, son?” Chief Harrowitz asked, almost not wanting to know the answer.

Whatever it was that got the crewman pissed right then was probably bad news for the ship, and that was if they were very lucky.

“I think whoever is on the other end of this just took a personal hand, Sir,” Parker admitted, “The pattern just changed, becoming more random.”

Harrowitz winced, knowing exactly what that meant.

The attack had probably been an automated assault up to this point, likely designed with maximum efficiency in mind rather than any thought to evading countermeasures. With a human, or rather Alien, hand at the controls they probably had a little more time but it would become much harder to predict and counter the interference they were fighting.

“Damn it, he shifted again,” Parker muttered, “Chief I need to get better readings… we’ve got to get our sensor tech in closer to the source of the interference. The latency is killing us here!”

Harrowitz cursed again, something he would probably have to slap himself a few times to avoid doing later, assuming they lived through this mess for there to be a later.

“Alright, fine,” He said, stepping over to the main controls for the Jump Drive. “Go.”

“What?” Parker blinked, confused.

“Take the portable sensors and interface and go,” The Chief ordered, “I’ll cover it from here until you get into place.”

Parker stared at him for a brief period, eliciting a grunt and a glare back.

“I can keep us from imploding for a few minutes, Parker, move your ass!”

“Yes Chief! Moving my ass!” Parker blurted, bolting for the portable instruments and grabbing two other crewmen on the way.

Harrowitz took over the task of trying to outguess the enemy as he tried to put out countervailing gravity waves to neutralize the ones being sent into the core by the enemy. It was like a sick, high stakes, game of missile command played on a battlefield of pure quantum mathematics. Frankly, Harrowitz wished that he’d stayed in bed, but he had a job to do.

They all had jobs to do.

*****

When Sorilla got her hands on the idiot who was screwing with the local gravity, she was going to pop his head like a pimple.

Nevermind the fact that she was currently running on the ceiling, the particular humiliation of how she got on the ceiling would never be mentioned by her, or the Lucian if he knew what was good for him… no, that was only a minor annoyance compared to the severe motion sickness she could feel coming on from the sudden shifts.

Oddly, however, it wasn’t as bad as the minor variations she endured during normal space travel. Possibly because she was too focused on the situation to think about throwing up in her helm, but maybe it had to do more with the tangible impact… figuratively and literally speaking… of the gravity changes.

She was more irritated by the fact that the Lucian seemed to be handling the changes easier than she was, despite not using augmenting armor or sensors as best she knew.

“You do this often?” She asked as she felt another gravity shift approaching and tensed.

Kriss did a circular shrug, “That would depend on what you define as ‘this’, I suppose.”

“Fighting in variable gravity.” Sorilla flipped in the air as the shift occurred.

“Ah,” He said, dropping back to the floor alongside her. “Not so often as you might expect, but it is part of training, yes.”

“I can see where we’re going to have to add it to the curriculum,” Sorilla scowled, the very idea of a course of that nature making her want to heave.

“Our ships make more fluid use of gravity warping,” He said, knowing that it was nothing she… or at least her people, hadn’t already worked out. “Such changes are controlled with more precision on an Alliance ship.”

“Right.”

They slowed as they arrived at the end of the corridor, noting that there was no fire from the open doors at the end. That might be because the enemy had been tossed around like a pinball in a tilted machine, but it also might be because they were laying a trap. Sorilla drew a small sphere from her gear and thumbed a button on it before tossing it through the door.

An image appeared on her HUD, flipping end for end a few times as she looked through the remote drone’s camera. Inside she saw at least fifteen aliens with weapons turning to look directly at the camera.

Say cheese.

Sorilla gave the detonate command, causing the sphere to jump up one meter from the deck and explode with a violent eruption of concussive force and shrapnel.

“Fifteen potential targets, at least some wounded.” She said alound as she proceeded forward.

Kriss snorted, both amused and irritated, “You lean too strongly on your toys.”

“Tools are there to be used,” Sorilla countered, “I don’t lean on anything, but I don’t ignore what I have at hand either.”

“So you say.”

They split the door way, sheltering at either side for a moment before making their move. Sorilla went first, spinning through the door in a crouch with both her guns out and seeking targets.

For most humans, and she suspected most aliens of the ones she’d encountered, using two guns was silly showboating. The brain and eyes were only engaged in one target at a time, so the second weapon really served no purpose beyond distracting you from aiming either of them correctly. Sorilla, however, had two brains and several more eyes than the average human.

Her guns were on automatic discharge, the CPU implanted in her chest controlling their firing pattern as she breached the room. All Sorilla had to do was sweep the weapons onto the target and the computer did the rest.

Alright, She thought a moment later as she straightened up amidst the carnage, He may have a point about leaning on my tools.

“Impressive.” Kriss said as he walked up behind her.

His own weapon had only discharged twice during the entry, and he suspected that she’d beat him to one of those he’d targeted. Her personal weapons were far faster than anything in the Lucian armory, but relatively low in power by comparison.

Sorilla broke her guns open and flipped them up, discharging both barrel assemblies to the deck as she reached for replacements.

“How many more are there,” She asked, scowling under her helm, “I’m going to run low on ammo at this rate.”

“I do not know,” Kriss admitted, “We have already killed more than I believed had remained on the ship.”

“Great.” Sorilla sighed, glancing around.

Oh well, I know how to use the alien weapons. There’s no shortage of those kicking around, if I need one.

Sorilla paused for a moment, turning slightly as she considered what she was feeling.

“This way,” She nodded to the door on the right.

Kriss glanced at her curiously, but merely shrugged and followed when she headed out.

*****

“Blasted Terrans… they’re learning quickly.”

The elder Parithalian scowled, “Are they going to stop you?”

“No. They’re not learning that quickly,” his subordinate chuckled dryly, “merely becoming an annoyance rather than an amusement.”

Even that was a surprise and a pain, however. They were on a Terran battlecruiser with no reinforcements available, they only had so much time before every soldier on the ship descended on their position. Alright, in many ways the interplay between the two sides fighting over control of the gravity was buying them time, but it was also costing them time.

It would be up to the universe to say which won the race.

*****

“Captain, we have gravity inversions all across the ship.”

Hiro scowled, his habit would normally have him walking over to check the readings, but given the blood stain on the ceiling of the bridge as a reminder, he wasn’t undoing his safety restraints anytime soon. Instead he mirrored the display and checked them from his command station.

“Are these tidal readings correct?” He asked, stunned.

“Yes sir, we have a standing wave pattern forming up. If the ship doesn’t implode in the next few minutes, the tidal forces are going to tear us apart.”

This is insane, Hiro tried to work out what he was seeing, but it was so close to impossible that he was having some serious trouble parsing it.

While it was true that Gravity propagated in waves, the period of a gravity wave was generally measured in lightyears. So, while there was a variance in the strength of gravity depending on where in the wave you were located, it was so slight that human senses certainly couldn’t detect it.

What he was seeing here, however, was a standing wave formation with a period measured in meters. That created gravity variance across the ship that was not only noticeable, it was damned dangerous. If they didn’t get a handle on things in a hurry, he had no doubt that the warning about it tearing the Mexico apart would be prophetic.

With shooting still being reported on Deck Three of the Engineering section, Hiro could only hope that the situation was resolved before it came to that.

Chapter Twenty

“Set it up here,” Parker ordered, picking a spot on deck three as close as he dared get to the source of the jamming.

The technician didn’t know what sort of defenses the saboteurs would have set up, but he could hear gunfire and explosions from where he was and had no intentions of getting any closer. Any sort of fighting that involved weapons smaller than nuclear warheads was far too petty for him to involve himself in.

Petty. Right.

Parker grinned as he worked, setting up his link to the Jump Drive as the portable diagnostic sensors and accelerometers were set into place as well.

Whatever the enemy was doing, it was screwing with spacetime in ways that he hadn’t thought possible before now, and he’s specifically taken a career path that made twisting spacetime into origami shapes a prerequisite for success.

As it was he could feel the gravity bending around him, rather like riding a roller coaster even while every other sense he had insisted he was standing still. The standing waves being established by the countering effects of the Mexico’s jump drive and the enemy interference device were quite possibly the most unnatural thing he’d ever encountered in his life.

Which was actually saying something, give some of the things he’d seen since enlisting with the SOLCOM Black Navy.

“Everything is hooked up, diagnostics green.”

“Good, Parker bent over the portable console he was working on, “taking control from the Chief… now.”

*****

Gravity suddenly shifted again, dropping Sorilla and Kriss to the deck as they sheltered just outside two big blast doors that had been pried open.

“Give it up!” Sorilla called out in Alliance basic, “You don’t have a chance!”

Kriss shot her an amused look, but didn’t say anything.

Sorilla ignored him, it wasn’t like the aliens inside knew there were only two of them.

This would be much simpler if I could use a couple room brooms, Sorilla lamented.

Unfortunately there was no way she could, or would, risk using anti-personnel devices with an active spacetime core in the room. She was crazy, not stupid. Unfortunately, it seemed like those in the room knew that or, more likely, just didn’t care.

With no response forthcoming, Sorilla jammed her gun around the corner and swept the room with the muzzle camera.

“I can see five of them, but there’s some kind of wall covering a few others… it’s not part of the room,” Sorilla said.

Kriss looked pensive for a moment, then risked a quick look himself. He pulled his head back just ahead of enemy fire and nodded.

“Portable artillery shield. They’re well equipped.”

“Great, because the handy dandy superweapon wasn’t enough,” Sorilla growled sarcastically. “Can we blast through it?”

“Not with what we have on hand,” Kriss admitted, “and, more importantly, anything that could would probably destabilize the core they’re using.”

“Great. So we do this the hard…” Sorilla paused, “Shit. Brace yourself!”

Kriss just had time to ready himself as another gravity shift picked him off the deck and sent him careening down the corridor. Sorilla threw herself out, just catching him, and pulled him back to the doorway she was gripping tightly with her other hand.

The Lucian was no stranger to feats of strength, but he knew that the woman wasn’t this strong.

The armor she wears is impressive.

Of course, he already knew that quite well. Kriss gripped the ridge of the door, hanging on for himself as he considered the situation.

“This is becoming untenable.” He admitted, finally.

“You’re telling me?” Sorilla bitched, “I don’t know how much more of this the ship can take, but I do know that I can’t take much more. Let’s move now, while this has them as disoriented as we are…”

“That would be a mistake,” Kriss cautioned.

“What? Why?”

“because the core they are using will be providing local stabilization.”

“Oh well just fuck me then,” Sorilla swore, now more than fed up with the situation. She mentally mapped out the field she was in, considering her options.

Kriss was silent, considering her words. They sounded like a proposition; however he was certain she didn’t mean them as such. He hoped not, at least, the idea wasn’t remotely appealing; no matter how impressive a warrior she was.

“Alright, I’ve had enough of this. Hang tight,” Sorilla said, “I’ve got to drop in on someone.”

“What? Wait!” Kriss managed to get out before Sorilla let go and kicked off the wall, flipping over backwards as she plummeted down the corridor toward a line of windows at the end.

She hit them feet first, smashing out into the larger bay area of Engineering’s Deck One, and being pulled into a tight orbit by the standing wave of gravity she was caught in. Even without her sensitivity to changes in local gravity it wasn’t hard to predict the general shape of the toroidal wave she was caught in, so Sorilla twisted in flight as she swept out along the catwalk that overlooked the main engineering section and brought her guns to bear on the enemy from behind their position.

The metalstorm weapons roared, blowing through the unarmoured interior glass with ease as she tore up the visible opposition before landing against the rail of the catwalk on the other side of the target room. It was a bizarre sensation, to say the least, to be walking horizontally on a safety rail, with the whole of Engineering looming out at her side.

Her brain was insisting that she was standing sideways and about to fall, but her implants and inner ear were quite happy that she was once more upright and stable. It was an… annoying… dichotomy.

Sorilla’s HUD started reporting on nearby allies, and she noted that there was an Engineering team not far from her position. She briefly queried their implants for basic information, then forced her way into their comm channel.

“Crewman Parker, Major Aida.” She said, her voice nearly monotone as she kept her focus on getting closer to the enemy position.

“Uh… Parker here?”

“I’m about thirty meters from you, this is a combat zone, Parker. You should take your team and pull back.”

“Can’t do it, we’re trying to combat the enemy device. The latency was too high using the main systems,” He said, “we had to move closer.”

“Are you the reason I’ve been bouncing off the frigging walls here?” Sorilla demanded, more than a little exasperated.

“Uh… sorry about that?”

“You’re so damn lucky I don’t have time to strangle you.”

“Look, I’m sorry,” Parker said, “but we’re literally the only thing keeping the core from imploding right now.”

“Fine, fine, just a little warning from now on,” Sorilla ordered, “I left my only backup hanging to a door frame on Deck three because gravity suddenly decided to go sideways on us.”

“I’ll do what I can, but this isn’t exactly the easiest job I’ve ever had,” The Crewman bitched, “the systems were not designed for this sort of thing.”

“Something we’ll have to correct in the future, no doubt,” Sorilla hopped off the catwalk rail and landed on the wall near the windows she’d shot out.

She settled into a crouch, guns in hand, “I’m about to do an entry, so I’ll be quiet for the next bit. Give me a warning before you do anything stupid.”

“Says the woman about to charge a room full of aliens armed with a super weapon.”

When he says it like that…

Sorilla didn’t respond as she walked along the frame of the windows, firing down into the room. It was a bizarre sensation, she found, to be firing down into a room where here targets were standing… or you know, not, horizontal to her position. It did have the effect of making her a very small target while they remained normal.

Her guns roared, one single loud sound that eclipsed all others in the area. Inside the room they turned bodies into slabs of meat, or meat like product in the case of some of the alien biochemistry involved, and generally rained chaos down before the two pistols fired dry and Sorilla jumped off the frame and into the center of a cracked piece of glass.

It shattered under her weight and she dropped/flew into the room, twisting abruptly as she fell into the field of the enemy device and normal gravity once again asserted itself. Sorilla arched in mid air, landing solidly on the floor as she dropped the spent barrels from her weapons and looked around.

Her threat board was clear, no sign of movement to be found, but there was still the artillery shield to deal with and, of course, the Lucian currently clinging to the doorway for dear life.

“You alive?” Sorilla called.

“For the moment.”

“Room’s clear.”

Kriss grumbled, dragging himself bodily into the room until he was perched horizontally on the door frame.

“This is… incredibly disorienting.”

“Try walking around a Ghoul ship.” Sorilla countered dryly, walking around the artillery shield. “How do we get into this thing?”

Kriss scowled, judging the distances involved, then leapt into the room. He too curved in mid-air as normal gravity asserted its dominance over him, and landed easily a few feet from Sorilla. He walked over and examined the shield carefully.

“Again, Sturm construction, they were too well equipped.” He grumbled, finding an access panel. “This will take time.”

“How much?”

“Less is they haven’t changed the default codes, more if they have,” Kriss said simply. “Sturm technology is… not to be trifled with. You haven’t encountered them yet, in many ways they are as frightening as the Ross… merely more… sociable.”

“Oh joy,” Sorilla grumbled.

Another race as bad as the Ross, technically, was not something she wanted on her mission books.

Kriss scowled at the system, “They changed the codes. This will take time.”

A low moan of twisting metal reverberated deeply around them, sounding unlike anything Sorilla had ever heard before.

“Time may not be something we have.”

*****

“We have no more time for this, finish it. Finish it now,” The elder Parithalian ordered, eyes on the display where he could see the Lucian trying to break into the shield.

He knew that the codes would hold for a time, but the artillery defensive system was one of the Sturm’s open market devices. That meant that the security built into the system was not, as one might hope, the best.

“They’re setting up a wave off phase to the one we’re trying to use,” He said, “Stop fighting them and reinforce their own wave.”

“Yes, Master.”

We won’t collapse into a singularity, but it should be nicely spectacular all the same.

*****

Sorilla flinched, twisting in place to look out over the catwalk into the engineering section beyond.

“What is it?” Kriss demanded, pausing to look at her.

He didn’t know what had clearly startled the Terran Sentinel, but he could read her motions well enough. She was badly frightened by something.

Sorilla ignored him, patching into the local comm-net instead.

“Parker! Watch it, they just put a lot more power into whatever they’re doing!”

There was no immediate response, but Sorilla was too distracted to be concerned by that. Outside the room, in the Engineering section, tools, scrap debris, and shards of glass were floating up into the air like a wall of flying junk. Sorilla could feel the power humming in the air, and as if on cue a loud groan of metal travelled through the ship, like the death cry of some great leviathan of the deep.

Sorilla spun around, shaking her head.

“Not again, I’m not losing another ship!” She snarled, guns coming up.

Kriss ducked out of the way, “Don’t be stupid! That is an artillery shield! If you could damage it with those toys do you really believe I would be trying to break the security?”

Sorilla growled, lifting her guns clear of the firing line.

“We have to get in there!”

Kriss returned to what he was doing, “I am working on it!”

“Not good enough.”

*****

Parker swore as ever reading he had suddenly spiked.

He recognized what was happening, but too late to stop it, “Damn it, they’re reinforcing our counter waves!”

“Won’t that slow the core’s expansion?”

“Yes,” Parker acceded as he went to work, “but the tidal sheer of the new standing wave form will tear the Mexico to pieces before we stop! I need new calculations, we’re going to have to reverse our wave form!”

“The Jump Drive isn’t designed for this!”

“I know!”

*****

“Hull breaches! Decks nine, eighteen, twenty three, thirty! More reports coming in, Captain!”

Hiro slapped an emergency switch, “Damage control teams! Get the ship locked down! Close every blast door, I want the Mexico compartmentalized! Now!”

“Sir, the Diplo teams are still caught in the spire!”

“Nothing we can do, lock them out.” Hiro ordered, “If we lose the spire, we lose the Mexico otherwise.”

“Aye Sir.”

No matter what happened now, Hiro knew that this was the Mexico’s last mission. Even if they came out in one piece, more or less, there was no way that the hull strain wouldn’t cause them to be declared unfit for service.

*****

The sound of blast doors slamming shut did nothing to improve Admiral Ruger’s mood.

“What was that!?” The Alliance Ambassador demanded, a hint of what Ruger was fairly certain was panic had set into his voice.

“blast doors.” The Admiral said dryly.

“But what if there is a breach on this level?” The Ambassador demanded.

“I believe,” Sienele offered, “that is precisely why the doors were closed.”

Ruger nodded to the Alliance spy master, “I’m afraid so. If the spire is breached with those doors open, the whole ship could be compromised.”

Sienele accepted that calmly, noting the potential weakness in the design for his report, assuming he lived to make one. It was something they’d theorized, of course, but it was always good to have confirmation. The fact that the area could be so tightly sealed limited the risk in such a design choice, of course, but there would likely be ways to exploit it if one looked hard enough.

“But… then we’re locked out here?”

Ruger didn’t spare the ambassador much sympathy, it was his own people… rebels or not… who were at fault here, after all. Still, he couldn’t say that he was particularly pleased with the situation either.

Maybe next time we skip the view and have our negotiations in an internal room…

*****

Sorilla stepped to the windows, as close as she could without crossing the warp ridge into the gravity wave beyond them.

“Parker, tell me you’re on this.” She demanded.

“I’m on it,” The crewman finally came back, “but it’s going to be close. Can you get to the source of the interference?”

“Negative. Bastard is hiding in some kind of portable bomb shelter,” She said, “maybe if I had breaching tools, but…”

“Understood.”

“I can feel the power spike from here,” She said. “Watch it, there’s another surge coming.”

Silence reigned for a moment as Sorilla braced herself against the cross beam, feeling the tug of the gravity wave pull at her. Parker came back a moment later, “Thanks. We were able to stop that one ahead of time. Let me know if they send any more.”

“Wilco.” Sorilla said, “Can’t do anything else right now. There’s no one else in comm range, and the ship’s repeaters are down. Do you have a hardline?”

“I have a line back to main engineering…”

“See if they can find some breaching tools and send them up here.” Sorilla asked.

Honestly she didn’t think they’d get there in time, but it seemed like the thing to ask for.

“Roger that. I’ve sent your request along,” Parker replied, “now hold on, cause I’m going to try something.”

Sorilla just looked out at the wall of debris that was just… hanging there, and nodded absently. “I hope it’s something good.”

*****

Parker tapped in a series of command, hoping that he was doing the math right. It should be, in theory is was fairly simple wave mechanics, but on the level they were working at he really didn’t want to accidentally forget to carry the one or something equally stupid.

Because gravity waves normally had just long frequencies, one didn’t experience local deviations the way you could on an ocean, for example. That didn’t mean that deviations didn’t happen, of course. Jump Points were one example of that happening naturally in the universe proper.

What was happening right then on the Mexico, however, was most assuredly not a natural phenomenon. The peculiar mixing of two spacetime warp cores had created extremely short frequency standing waves all through the Mexico, and the tidal forces resulting from that was in the process of slowly tearing the big ship apart.

What he had to do, then, was create a new pattern. Not just neutralize the attacker’s wave front, but actually reverse the pattern.

If it doesn’t kill us all, it should blow the ever living hell out of their core.

Parker hoped for the best as he keyed the program into action, “Everyone… hang on!”

*****

The alarm coming from the portable core was the first clue they had that something had gone wrong, shocking the elder Parithalian from his concerns over the success of the mission to something a little more immediate.

“What is it?”

“I don’t know!” His companion admitted, panic clearly setting in. “There’s a surge blowing back through the system!”

The blue skinned alien glanced back at the system, eyes widening as he recognized the change in the pattern.

“No, you fool!” He rushed over, shoving his companion aside. “They’re reversing the pattern! It’ll bounce us, shield and all, around like a toy if we don’t counter!”

He could feel the change in gravity even as he entered the new program and sent the countering command, praying that he was in time.

*****

The alarms had been so damned distracting that Harrowitz had them cut, physically, just so his crews could continue working without being annoyed to the point of either distraction or self-immolation. He was primarily monitoring the ongoing fighting between Parker and the Saboteurs, though there wasn’t a lot he could add to the mix.

It was like watching a game of chess being played out in at least five or six dimensions, maybe more, with each side trying to anticipate what the other was going to do several moves in advance. So far, he had to admit to being impressed with Parker’s moves.

The kid is keeping up, while it’s clear he’s the one fighting with a considerable handicap. I don’t know how much longer he can hold this, though.

The acceleration of the ship had ceased to be the primary issue, they still have over a hundred gravities to spare on the engines and the core wasn’t increasing any longer, so imploding wasn’t going to be a problem. The tidal stress of the standing waves of gravity within the ship, however, those were a significant problem.

So far Parker had kept the G-Forces to mostly survivable tolerances by human standards, which meant that the ship could take the biggest portion of the stress as well. There were places, however, where he was seeing several dozen times the force of gravity tearing at the ship in opposing directions. The Mexico just wasn’t designed to take that kind of stress, the design specifications had all assumed that the tidal forces would be predictable and oriented in specific patterns around the core.

I think we may be looking at another major redesign, if the Mexico makes it home.

Harrowitz was beginning to see why the alien ships had been designed as they were, actually, if his guess was right at least. It didn’t help him just then, however, so he shelved those thoughts and focused back on the moment.

Come on kid. Kick this bastard’s ass.

*****

Parker was sweating as he worked, and none of it was coming from the temperature of the ship around him.

The alien had figured out what he was up to, and in turn reversed his own assault. That forced Parker to react to keep the waves from reinforcing each other and jump starting the core again, which in turn played into another move to try and blow the whole mess wide open.

Major Aida’s advance warning was invaluable, but Parker knew that he’d be trapped. The alien had him in a pattern, one that he didn’t dare break out of, but one that made his actions predictable. He didn’t know how, but he was sure that at some point the alien would take advantage of that and all he could hope to do was not be too slow on the draw when the moment came.

“Sir, the Jump Drive is beginning to heat up.”

That was another problem.

The drive mechanism hadn’t been designed for this sort of long term combat in mind, defensive or otherwise. It was used to punch through a weak point in the gravity of the universe, letting the ship transition to non-space where little rules like relativity didn’t apply. That was a momentary application of power, not this continuous fight.

“Keep me updated,” Parker said.

Not that there was anything else he could say or do, the state of the jump drive was out of his control and it wasn’t like he could stop using it. It would do them no good to save the drive from overheating only to implode the whole ship into the core.

*****

Sorilla paced back from the windows, hammering her hand into the shield as she stopped near where the Lucian was working. “Any progress?”

“In the few instants since you asked last?” He asked dryly, “No.”

“I called for breaching tools…”

“This shield is designed to withstand direct impacts from Ross gravity weapons,” Kriss responded, “it’ll hold up to anything you’d be willing to use inside the hull of your own vessel.”

Sorilla swore, “I’m not losing another ship.”

Kriss spared her a glance, “No, you’re certainly not. If this ship goes, we all go with it. Now calm yourself and continue to communicate with the counter efforts your people are working on. They are the ones keeping us alive right now.”

Sorilla hammered the shield again, but turned and walked back to the window. She could feel the power of the shifting waves of gravity as they moved around her position. Standing in the eye of the storm meant that she had a place to stand, true, but she could also see all the damage being wrought.

Another spike caused her to instantly link to Parker, “Incoming, Parker. Strong one, three degrees off the last.”

“Roger. Got it…”

Sorilla watched as all the loose tools and debris once again jumped up from the deck in a parody of a rolling ocean wave, flying into formation just outside. Beyond that another wave could be seen by the debris is had picked up, and likely a third beyond it.

Sorilla didn’t know what the rest of the ship looked like, but Engineering was going to need a lot of deck scrubbing when this was over. Assuming there’s a deck left to scrub.

She felt another spike, “He’s shifting again… No! Wait! Parker, he’s doubling down!”

*****

Parker swore as Aida’s warning came too late, he’d already begun the counter to his opponent’s expected move only to be surprised by the change. The power he’d sent from the jump drives had, instead of canceling out the next set of waves, reinforced the current one.

“Shit! Move! Get out of here!” He waved his free hand, screaming at his two aides as he kept working.

“What about you?”

“Get the hell out!” Parker snarled, “NOW!”

They ran as the wave tore the catwalk off the wall behind him, bolting for the corridor beyond. Parker knew the enemy’s game now, but it was too late. He didn’t look back as the windows unto the Engineering section shattered, the glass being sucked out into the massive wave he’d accidentally helped create.

“Aida, get cover!” He screamed over the sounds around him. “Get cover!”

Typhoon winds and the unearthly groan of metal surrounded him as he finished the last equation and slammed his hand down on the command key just instants before he and his gear were sucked right out of the room.

*****

“Parker! Parker!” Sorilla screamed, eyes wide as she watched the catwalk literally torn to shreds and pulled into the wave.

The glass went next as she jumped back, Parker’s voice screaming at her over the Comm.

She did as he bade, grabbing Kriss and hauling him down behind the alien shield. The hurricane winds tore at them as they covered, but she could look away as she spotted a human form pulled into the maelstrom.

“Parker?”

Sorilla felt the sudden surge fill the area, the pull of gravity suddenly balancing out and a silence descended. She half rose, brushing off the efforts of the Lucian to hold her down. The silence now was unearthly, Sorilla felt like she had to be imagining it, but she couldn’t look away from the figure out in the wave.

Oddly, she’d never met the man face to face, but she’d spoken to him several times over the last few days when she contacted engineering to complain about the errant gravity source. She recognized him, though, from his jacket. He was looking back at her, or so she thought. It was hard to tell in the mess that was floating out there.

Sorilla grabbed for the cable and carabineer clip held in her armor, heading for the window to try and pull him back when a thunderous clap tore through her sensors and she was thrown back by the shockwave that tore through the room. The shielded device in the center of the room literally jumped off the deck, something internal slamming it about.

She hit the wall hard enough to dent the metal, a splatter of blood and flesh slapping her at the same time as the figure she’d been intent on ceased to exist as the Mexico’s jump drive reversed the wave amplitude and tore the entire standing wave pattern apart.

Along with everything caught inside it.

Sorilla slid to the deck, stunned by the blast, but her instincts wouldn’t let her do what her mind and body begged for. She rolled over and stumbled to her feet, barely able to stand. She staggered over to where the Lucian was laying, noting that he was moving and seemed to be breathing.

Tough bastards.

For now, that would do. She had something else to settle.

The shield was laying on its side now, blown over by some internal force… or at least an internally located one. Sorilla reached it and shoved with all her strength until it rolled over to reveal the ruptured access door.

She grabbed it in her armor shod hands and wrenched the now useless shield apart, glaring into the inside.

There were two bodies there, one clearly dead if the arrangement of its limbs were any indication. The other was moving, if barely. Sorilla looked down at the Parithalian and slowly shook her head.

“You’re either the luckiest son of a bitch alive, or the unluckiest,” She said, as she reached in to pull him bodily out. “I think It’d have been better for you if you died.”

Epilogue

Admiral Ruger looked out from the display deck of the Mexico, ignoring the movement of the maintenance crew who were diligently cleaning up the mess and effecting what repairs they could. He didn’t have the heart to tell them that the Mexico was already destined for the forge, there was no way SOLCOM would risk leaving a ship that had endured as much stress as it had in active service.

Despite the loss of yet another ship, at least this time the crew was… for the most part, intact.

There were broken bones aplenty, a few even more serious injuries as well, and a half a handful of deaths beyond the Marines who died in the assault on the enemy controlled positions.

In trade, they’d gotten their peace treaty, with a few concessions for their troubles. Nothing too blatant, but more than they’d expected to get in the deal.

Those weren’t the real prizes, however.

They now had a prisoner, one of the rebels… and the only one to survive, was a Parithalian. The blue skinned alien was pretty badly beat up, but he was breathing… which was more than he deserved in the opinions of several on board. He was too valuable, however, to let die… or to speed along the process.

He was their key to the Alliance.

Interrogation would take time. Weeks at best, maybe years, but with the treaty in place they had time to spend. Possibly the only thing better than the man they now had would have been if they could have coopted, or captured, someone as high as the Ambassador himself.

Of course, it would be a close thing, and Ruger was personally much happier with a dissident. No one knew the cracks and the weak spots in a government better than the people who actively opposed said government. It was also a lot easier to flip a dissident than a loyal official.

*****

Sorilla was sitting in the armory, across from her armor. It had been cleaned off, but she could almost feel the splatter of blood across her bare face. Some things made you wonder if you’d ever get clean, whether they physically touched you or not.

After the loss of Valkyrie she’d been considering retirement, the job wasn’t exactly what she’d signed up for any longer. Sorilla just didn’t know if that was a good thing or not, but she did know that she couldn’t go back to what she’d done before the war.

Training humans to kill humans seemed like such a damned stupid thing to do now.

Of course, she was self-aware enough to realize that there wasn’t nearly as big a difference in training people to kill aliens as some might make out. It was all death and destruction, and she didn’t know any longer if she wanted anything to do with that lifestyle.

The Alliance was filled with people, not blank faced aliens…

Well, aside from the Ross.

Sorilla snorted, the one race out of the bunch that still hadn’t quite made it into her list of ‘people’ were the ones who started the whole mess in the first place. There had to be something ironic or poetic about that, she just didn’t have the patience to search for meaning in it at the moment.

She was of no illusions about what was going to happen next. She’d played this game before, albeit in the minor leagues.

SOLCOM would take some time, a few months or a few years, but there was no question how they were going to play it.

While the diplo teams continued to push for advantages in the backrooms, SOLCOM would send her… or someone like her… to start giving the Alliance something else to worry about.

The Alliance was weak where it counted, they had divisions that could be widened… flames that could be fueled. She’d done it before and now she was going to do it again.

The hell of it was, Sorilla knew that she was good at it… and she liked her job.

De Oppresso Liber.

To Free The Oppressed.

Sorilla ran her fingers over the silver wings pinned to the beret in her hand, eyes locked on the armor that was blankly staring back at her from the open case it rested in.

She knew that if she looked hard enough, she’d be able to excuse what she was ordered to do. She knew that she could find the oppressed in any nation on Earth with minimal effort. No matter how freedom loving, how civilized, or how open a society was… there would always be those within it who were held down by some portion. It seemed to be a universal law.

Oppression was universal, freedom was never free.

The problem was, Sorilla suspected that she was losing the heart to look now.

Sorilla stood up, crossing the space to the armor and slamming the case shut. It was all just pointless melancholy, she knew what she was going to do when the call came. She would do her job.

It was the only thing she knew, and it was something she was damned good at.

Sorilla just hoped that the next job was something she could feel proud of when it was all said and done. She’d never done anything she believed was wrong, never followed an illegal order, but the line had gotten blurry a few times. She wondered why it was only bothering her now, though?

Her last missions had been clean, pure even. No questions, no moral dilemma, just good guys and bad guys and kicking ass across the galaxy. It was a damn dream come true.

She thought about the few members of the Alliance she now knew by name and put a name to her nightmare.

It was hell when the enemy had a face.

*****

“That could have gone better.”

Kriss grunted from where he was sitting, his bones now on their way to mending but a long way from being hale.

“At least we didn’t start another war,” The Ambassador sighed.

“I believe we may have done much worse,” Sienele said, “While on the Terran ship I took the opportunity to skim their database…”

The Ambassador turned sharply, shocked, “You did what? If you’d been caught…”

“Yes yes, war, trouble, and all that,” Sienele made a show of looking bored by the prospect. “We learned enough about their computers before to make that a low order risk, and this time their systems weren’t destroyed as they were before.”

“So what did you learn?” Kriss asked, moderately interested.

“I have the location of their colonial worlds and some specifications of their fleet, however I think that they either inserted false data or deliberately kept some data out of the records for this ship,” Sienele said, thinking about it for a moment, “I would have.”

“Oh? What do you feel they held back?”

“The true numbers of their fleet. What I saw was little more than a task force or two,” The spymaster shrugged, “we’ll need to slip long range scouts into the area to confirm the data. No, it was the personnel information that concerned me.”

“What about it?” The Ambassador scowled, wondering what information about the individual Terrans could possibly be more important than fleet intelligence.”

“The Terran Sentinel, the one they call Aida?” Sienele said leadingly.

Kriss leaned forward, now very interested.

“What about her?”

“Her military specialty is listed as unconventional asymmetrical warfare, training, and logistics.”

Kriss whistled, sinking back, “Oh damn the Abyss.”

“What? What? What does that mean?” The Ambassador was befuddled.

“It means that she specializes in fighting wars inside enemy territory, by training rebels and teaching them how to take on superior foes with lesser numbers and equipment,” Sienele scowled, “and now she knows not just that we have such dissidents within our borders, but at least some idea of how to locate them I have little doubt.

Kriss shook his head, “and I believed her dangerous as a Sentinel. She’s not the weapon, she’s the engineer and the trigger.”

Sienele nodded tiredly, “I believe that we will have to turn our focus internally for some time, lest we leave too much material around for the Terrans to work with.”

“That won’t work,” Kriss said, “You know that the more we clean out, the more will consider it to be hostile acts of oppression and ready themselves to join up.”

“I know, but what else can we do? We no longer have time to play the safe game, the long game.” Sienele said, “You know it, Sentinel Kriss. I know it. The Terrans now know it.”

“They may not make a move,” The Ambassador offered, “We have a treaty.”

“Yes, that will make them cautious,” Sienele agreed, “however it won’t stop them because they have to know that we’re preparing to do similar things to them.”

“We are not!”

“Don’t be naïve, Ambassador,” Sienele was dismissive, “Of course we are. The treaty was primarily an effort to buy time while we learn what happened to our fleet and move another force into place. The war isn’t over yet, we’ve just begun fighting it by other means.”

END

About the Author

Evan Currie the author of several science fiction novels and has been writing more than half his life, mostly just for the enjoyment of telling stories to those who want to hear them. Action/Adventure with a military lean draws him most of all, leading to the creation of the popular Odyssey and Wings series of novels that have been well received amongst readers.

Storytelling is his hobby, his career, and his passion.

Titles by Evan Currie :

The Odyssey Series :

Into the Black, Heart of Matter, Homeworld, Out of the Black

The Warrior’s Wings series :

Hayden War Arc :

On Silver Wings, Valkyrie Rising, Valkyrie Falling, The Valhalla Call

Cold War Arc (In Progress) :

By Other Means, De Opresso Liber (Forthcoming)

Other Novels by Evan Currie

Steam Legion, SEAL Team 13, Thermals, Knighthood (Forthcoming)