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nebrisSam and Tom held on to each other in the cold hard vacuum of space. Around them tens of thousands of asteroids floated, ranging in size from footballs to small moons. The light of the local star cast everything in a harsh contrast of brightness and shadow. Sam signed contentedly.
::That was lovely:: she said via BrainPal. ::Thank you:: She 'pinged' Tom a kiss.
::Yes, it was, wasn't it?:: Tom replied, 'pinging' her a kiss in return.
They hadn't had sex in a fashion that most humans would think of as 'sex', but felt just as good, which is what matters after all.
Lt. Samantha Dickinson and Lt. Thomas Verne were Gamarans, the turtle-like Colonial Defense Force Special Forces soldiers created to live and operate in space itself. Their 'copulation' was locking their shells together and hard linking their nervous systems. As their core psycho-biology was still human, the rest proceeded organically.
Normally, they would not have 'played nooky' while on a mission, but this one was proving to be a boring waste of time. They'd been hanging around the Chiuul system for two Standard weeks now, their mission based upon a CDF Intel tip that 'something important supposedly going to happen'. So far, nada.
The Chiuul were a very minor member of The Conclave with no colonies and only a handful of skip vessels. The Gamarans had scattered a couple of dozen melon sized monitors around the system, but they had shown nothing but the comings and goings of mining barges between the Chiuul home world and one of its three moons.
::What a shithole:: Tom had groused after twelve Standard days. ::Not even a freaking tramp freighter::
::Intel was pretty insistent:: Sam said.
::Well, I'm about ready to climb out of my shell:: Tom said.
Sam 'pinged' a coy smile. ::Maybe we can distract ourselves::
::Lieutenant Dickinson, are you suggesting we engage in Non-Regulation Behavior?:: He 'pinged' a smirk.
::I am the senior officer on site:: she replied. Her creche batch was six months older than his, making her five years old to his four and half.. Like all Special Forces, they were 'born' with a BrainPal and that brought one up to speed very quickly. Because they were functionally the smallest 'warships' in the Colonial Defense Force fleet – adhered to their shells were a small skip drive, a small reaction drive and four modified CDF personal weapons on flexible mounts – they were all commissioned Second Lieutenants upon completion of training.
They 'distracted' themselves only once per Standard day to maintain some semblance of mission discipline. Even that did help morale however.
They remained linked for a few minutes post distraction, then detached and drifted a few meters apart. There was silence as they checked the monitors even though they would have gotten a ping if something had happened. But all that had transpired was the last of the Chiuul ore barges landing and their sole space port shutting down as the planet rotated it into night.
They then watched the port's nighttime operations. It had gotten to the point where they could identify the various operators of the dirtside ore haulers by their driving patterns.
::I wish something would happen:: said Tom.
::Hush:: replied Sam.
::Seriously. The fate of the entire human race is in the balance and here we sit waiting for something that probably doesn't even exist::
::Well, the Consu could show up and challenge us to personal combat. Or maybe a Rraey fleet on the lookout for soup fixings::
Tom grumbled. ::Okay, okay. Point taken::
The Consu were a formidable race who had tapped a dwarf star to erect a energy shield around their home system and engaged in highly ritualized warfare for obscure religious reasons. And the Rraey just liked the taste of human flesh. As the Colonial Union was fond of pointing out, the universe was a dangerous place.
They were quiet again for few minutes, floating just above the tiny asteroid they'd made their 'base camp'. There were a half dozen monitors held down by netting to its surface and a pair of skip drones positioned on small launchers. Being self contained Gamarans didn't need any 'supplies', at least not for such a short term mission. Water was the only long term need and there was plenty of that frozen among the local asteroids.
Sam knew Tom well enough to be aware that he was stewing.
::Okay:: she said. ::Chunter away::
Even though he knew she was humoring him, he dove right in.
Of course he started in with the attack on Earth Station a little over three Standard months before. He was obsessed with that. Granted it was a tragic event and a political disaster for the Colonial Union. But it had unnerved Tom in a profound way.
In the corner of the galaxy in which humans found themselves, hundreds upon hundreds of spacefaring races competed for colonies. This resulted in frequent wars, massacres and the occasional genocide. When humans first ventured out onto this stage, they got their nose good and bloodied.
After those early setbacks, the Colonial Union was formed. It acquired alien technology and stabilized human colonization efforts. It created the Colonial Defense Force which fought for colonies and protected the ones acquired. It kept Earth isolated from the terrors of the universe and carefully farmed it for military personal and colonists. Things went on like this for over two centuries and worked out fairly well for the CU and its colonies. There was still constant warfare and colony stealing, but the CU held its own.
It was into this universe that Tom was born. He rather liked its relative stability and certainty. In this matter Tom and the CU leadership were very much in accord. And then everything changed.
As happens so often in history various events and 'blind forces' converge upon one man. Or, in this case, one Vreen, a General Gau, a highly capable veteran commander of that race. Gau had a vision, that it would be more fruitful for the various races to stop fighting for planets and to instead cooperatively settle them. And after a few decades of politically campaigning for this, The Conclave was born, a confederation of over four hundred races.
The key policy of The Conclave was that no colonization of any kind, by any race, member or non-member notwithstanding, was to be allowed without its approval. Any such action would cause The Conclave fleet to step in. The colony was given the choice of peaceful evacuation or total annihilation. Most chose the former.
While Sam and Tom disagreed on a number of political issues, they were both in full agreement that this was mighty damned presumptuous on the part of The Conclave. The CU's leadership was also of such an opinion and then some. As is was their wont, they immediately went about trying to put a stick into The Conclave's spokes.
What they did was run a classic 'wheels within wheels within wheels bait and switch' Colonial Union gambit.
::Sometimes we're too clever for our own good:: Sam had been known to remark, a point which given later events, Tom was forced to admit, however ruefully.
For a long time various citizen's groups within the CU had advocated for colonies to be founded from existing CU colony worlds instead of solely using colonists from Earth. CU leadership demurred because A; they knew these colonies simply wanted to expand their own political power base – the CU was not keen on funding internal competition – and B; the CU wanted to maximized population growth on each colony world, not disperse it among new ones, especially when the new colonists from Earth were both plentiful and relatively docile. After all they would be out in the big scary universe and totally dependent on the CU for several years.
Now, faced with The Conclave's 'diktat', the CU decided that intracolonization was a 'good idea'...with a twist. The new colony would be made up of an equal number colonists from ten different CU colonies and with a separate colonial leadership appointed by the CU. There was the obligatory grumbling over the latter, but the truth is none of them wanted to cede anything to the others, so they accepted the CU's decision.
The colony was to be called Roanoke, a name which should have raised red flags that the CU was up to its usual tricks. But the only colonist originally from Earth was the Colonial Administrator, John Perry, and he had his hands full wrangling the ten colonial factions. Besides, everyone was focused on the obvious fact that founding Roanoke was a slap in the face to The Conclave, also a rather distracting issue.
The first clue that things were amiss was when the Magellan, the ship transporting the colonists and their equipment, skipped to an unknown world, which meant they started off 'lost', as without knowing where they were, no return course could be plotted. Left its crew stuck there as well.
Perry had everyone hunker down and 'live primitive', meaning no modern gear to be used because their wireless tech would give them away and they knew damned well The Conclave would be looking for them. That the Magellan had carried a fair amount of low tech gear and that a faction of Technological Mennonites had been included among the colonists largely confirmed that the CU had planned this.
::That was truly immoral:: Sam said. ::We're supposed to protect our people, not use them as tethered goats::
::We get put in harm's way all the time:: Tom protested, though half-heartedly.
::You know perfectly well that's not the same. We're professionals. That's our job:: Sam said passionately. But she allowed him to continue. Ranting was his therapy out here.
Sam also knew that this was a touchy subject for many Gamarans because it was one of their own, the now infamous Lt. Stross, who had hitch-hiked on the Magellan's hull and then was the bearer of all the above bad tidings. When John Perry revealed all the details of this whole benighted operation to Earth [and everyone else] a year and half later, Stross came off, at best, as a feckless dupe of the CU or, at worst, merely an indifferent functionary of the same. Not the optimal way to have the existence of your kind unveiled.
That said however, Perry also revealed that the Gamarans had been key to the plan to destroy The Conclave fleet at Roanoke, that after CDF Intelligence had tracked the flagships of all of the four hundred and twelve races that made up said fleet – Gau's idea was to create mutual responsibility – it was the Gamarans who slipped in and planted antimatter bombs upon each and every one of those flagships, bombs which were simultaneously detonated in the skies above Roanoke as Perry and Gau watched from the surface.
Even though the political goals of the plan failed – to cause The Conclave to unravel – the Gamarans were justifiable proud of their accomplishment. They executed the tactical portion flawlessly. That the greater strategy collapsed with beyond their control and certainly beyond their remit.
What in fact unraveled after that was everything. There were attacks upon the CU by both Conclave and non-Conclave races with greater and greater frequency. There was an attempted to assassinate Gau by a faction that wanted to annihilated all of humanity, an attempt that was thwarted by Perry's adopted daughter, Zoë Boutin-Perry, with help from The Obin, a race who worshiped her, plus an unnerving intervention by a Consu on his Death Journey. Another attack on Roanoke. And then Perry's famous [or infamous, depending upon one's point of view] journey to Earth with a Conclave merchant fleet, one ship from each of the aforementioned four hundred and twelve races, which essentially blew the lid off everything the CU had been keeping secret for over two centuries.
That seemed to dampen most of the fires for a while. The CU then tried to repair the relationship by proposing that the various Earth governments lease Earth Station and run it themselves, plus numerous other inducements.
At this point in his rant Tom would start getting morose. He'd had something of an infatuation with Earth Station ever since he'd first became aware of it. He read everything he could find about it, from its history to traveler's accounts.
Earth Station – also known locally as Colonial Station – had been humankind's greatest engineering feat to date. It wasn't the station itself however. At one point seven kilometers in diameter it was barely even a tenth the size of Phoenix Station, the CU's principle transit station in Geo-sync above its capital colony. Granted that size did impress 'the locals', Earth's inhabitants who never got to see what was going on out in the universe.
No, what was impressive about Earth Station, even to non-human races, was The Beanstalk, the massive space elevator that went from its base at Nairobi to Earth Station hovering roughly ten thousand kilometers above it. Earth's scientific community could not even begin to figure out the physics involved. And that was precisely the point.
The Beanstalk was meant as a psychological and political tool, one designed specifically to intimidate the governments and peoples of the home world. It wasn't even the most effective way to operate surface-to-orbit transport. Shuttles were. But it certainly was the most spectacular. And it served that psychological and political purpose for over a century and quarter.
Therefore its destruction had a psychological and political effect that far far outweighed the actual infrastructure damage. It certainly shook the Colonial Union to its very foundations.
In the year or so after the Roanoak debacle, a 'third force' had quietly emerged. No-one knew who they were, where the came from or what their goals were, though it seemed clear that said goals were inimical to the CU's interests. Both CU and Conclave ships vanished without any trace.
A subtle but vicious campaign of spying and sabotage was waged against the CU on Earth and out in CU territory, including the use of a very effective brainwashing tech that was, up to that point, totally unknown.
And then there was the appearance of what was called a Brain Ship, a uncrewed vessel with a sentient brain as both captain and crew. What was most terrifying about was that the 'brain pilot' was itself a captive and knew nothing of its captors.
When the conference to lease Earth Station was just getting underway, fifteen CU ships, all of them among the 'vanished ships', skipped into Sol System and attacked Earth Station. They used CU missiles to destroy it in a manner that would inflect maximum casualties. The cream of Earth's diplomatic corps was massacred in a matter of minutes and The Beanstalk came crashing down.
The Clarke, the sole CU ship that managed to break station and launch a counterattack, was able to determine that the attacking ships were all 'brain piloted' before it too was destroyed. But that information had near zero effect upon the aftermath. The Colonial Union was, for all intents and purposes, politically and psychologically completely cut off from Earth...which meant that the fate of the human race was in doubt.
At this point in his rant, Tom would lapse into a morose silence that so far Sam had not been able to positively effect. She'd have to just let him stew. But she knew that was not acceptable and had recently thought of a new tack. It had the great benefit of being true.
She allowed herself to drift over and gently bump against him. Then she said softly, ::We're the fail safe for the human race:: She could tell he perked right up at that. ::Explain:: he said, his tone conveying a mix of hope and skepticism.
::As far as we know, we're the only beings who live in raw space. Even if The Conclave or the so-called 'third force' or whomever attacks and wipes out Earth and the CU, we still exist out here. And we're very hard to find::
::Yes, we certainly can be:: he added.
Sam warmed to her subject. At this point in its history, the Colonial Union had been genetically engineering human beings for well over two centuries. It had become quite expert at this, better than any other race – the Consu excepted – and the only race that practiced such upon itself so extensively.
It had started with simple cybernetic and genetic enhancements of existing humans, but quickly progressed to cloning and consciousness transference as the alien technology needed to do so was acquired. Thus was born the CDF policy of recruiting seventy five year old's from Earth's First World nations, though in practice those recruits largely came from the United States. That was not an random choice.
The famous green completion of the CDF clone bodies those former 'old folks' now inhabited was an early development. It also had the not undesired side effect of psycho-emotionally separating the CDF from both the new colonists from the Third World and the populations of already established colonies. The CDF became its own culture.
Out of that culture came the Ghost Brigades, CDF clones 'hatched raw' with no preexisting consciousness, but only a BrainPal, which guided these clones into an identity that was essentially a mix of CDF culture and their own genetic predispositions. The source of their DNA were the Earth recruits who had signed up, but who, for whatever reason, had never made it to the transfer process. These 'Ghosts', which was a slightly derogatory term, went into the CDF's Special Forces and operated apart from the main CDF most of the time. This added to their aura of mystery.
The very first Gamarans were Special Forces Ghosts who had their consciousness transferred into the new bioforms. But once the concept proved successful, Gamarans came into being like any other Ghost; 'hatched raw' with no preexisting conscious and with only a BrainPal to guide them. Basically, 'if it ain't broke, don't fix it'.
The oldest Gamaran was now just about thirteen. All Ghosts 'grew up' quickly and the Gamarans were no exception.
They spent four fifths of their lives in the raw vacuum of space itself, but it was soon understood that they needed some sort of home worlds to effectively function. So the CDF took a 'mini-world', a large asteroid in the Monroe system, partially hollowed it out and equipped it as a Gamaran home world. That system was chosen because Monroe was the colony were Ghosts retired and everyone there knew how to keep their mouths shut.
Anacreon was two hundred by three hundred by one and forty kilometers. Though it had been constructed mostly by Homo Mundi – or Dirtsiders as they were generally known – it was run almost exclusively by Gamarans. [Homo Gamarus as they came to call themselves] Most importantly, Anacreon possessed a birthing creche.
There were six more 'home worlds' like Anacreon, all of them in non-colony systems and those locations the greatest of secrets. Plus there were a few hundred smaller asteroid bases, ones like Mondas, Sam and Tom's home base, a fully hollowed out asteroid, four by six by two kilometers. It had been constructed entirely by Gamarans, with no Mundai on site.
::See, we humans will survive, no matter what:: Sam said. ::And if the Dirtsiders are wiped out, we shall avenge them in due course.::
She could feel Tom unwinding. ::Do you think the CDF big wigs think about that?::
::I have no doubt. Look how self sufficient they have allowed us to be:: she said. ::Once they saw what we are capable of...well, it's no secret how precarious our position as a race is out here:: She really wasn't all that sure about this, but she certainly hoped this was the case. The CDF 'big wigs' had a well earned reputation as a tricky bunch of bastards.
Tom mulled all this over for a while. Sam could hear the gears in his brain grinding.
::Well, I'll tell you what:: he said at last. ::Just to be sure, I think we should talk this whole idea over with the rest of the squadron and see what they have to say::
::Sure:: said Sam. ::Discussing ways to promote the ongoing survival of the human race is within regulation as far as I'm concerned:: They 'pinged' smiles at each other.
While this whole exchange had been going on, they had of course keep watch on their various instruments and on the comings and going of the night shift down on Chiuul's spaceport.
::What do they do with all that damned ore?:: Tom exclaimed. Sam took that as a good sign. He was back to his normal complaining.
::Make it into ingots and stack 'em until buyers show up:: she said calmly.
He grumped. She laughed.
::Well, back to watching and waiting:: he said.
::Still restless?:: she asked.
::You know me. Twitchy by nature:: he said and laughed.
::Then let us contemplate the stars:: she said, uttering the Quiet Summons of Yūgen.
She could feel the last of the restlessness drain out of him.
::Yes:: he said very softly.
Yūgen was a term used in Japanese Aesthetics. It had no direct English translation. Most volumes defined it as “a profound, mysterious sense of the beauty of the universe and the sad beauty of human suffering.”
A half dozen years back a Gamaran named Rachel Banks had started a meditational practice she called Yūgen. It was based upon that “profound mysterious sense of the beauty.” She felt it natural that as the Gamarans lived the majority of their lives, as she put it, “naked within the Universe,” that they “had a unique relationship with it and a singular perspective within it.”
Major Banks – her spiritual practice had not affected her career – was a native of Trantor, a Gamaran 'home world' which was also where Sam and Tom were born. As such they were among the first to discover and adopt it. They had even studied directed with Banks.
Yūgen had spread like wildfire among the Gamarans and even to some Mundi Special Forces troopers. As it was about 'inner peace', not 'pacifism' – all Ghosts knew full well how dangerous it was out there – the CDF 'big wigs' allowed it to flourish unhindered.
It was one of the wisest decisions they ever made. Gamarans who practiced Yūgen turned out to more stable and effective than those who didn't.
Sam and Tom turned their attention to the vast beauty of The Universe and drank it in.
The hours passed...
...then their sensors started popping. A ship had skipped in system. They quietly checked all their readings.
::I've got a Horvathi ship, some type of medium sized transport, non-military:: said Tom.
::Affirmative across the board:: said Sam.
::Got an ID. She is listed as one of The Conclave vessels that 'disappeared':: said Tom.
::Affirmative:: said Sam.
They waited and observed for several minutes.
::She seems dead in the water:: said Tom.
::I'm not getting anything either. All her systems appear to have shut down right after she skipped in:: She pinged a sigh. ::Looks like we're going to have earn our pay after all::
::Well, I wanted something to happen:: said Tom ruefully. ::I'll fire off a skip drone and grab a monitor::
They skipped to the vessel's location. It had clearly sustained damage, some kind of shrapnel, but was largely intact. On its hull was a name in Horvathi script which said either Wanderer or Drifter in Horvathi, though in one sub-dialect it meant 'vagrant'. The two of them slowly maneuvered around the hull. She seemed dead close up as well.
::In for penny:: said Sam and headed for the main hatch. They both mentally held their breath as she used the manual override to open it. No alarms went off and nothing blew up. Leaving the monitor on the hull, they entered. Just as dead inside as well.
And bare naked, too. Anything 'live crew' related had been stripped out. The Wanderer or Drifter or whatever she was called was an airless empty hull...except for the brain pilot casing. Which had a shrapnel gash straight through it.
::Guess that's why she's dead:: mused Tom.
::Maybe:: replied Sam. She looked around the vacant hull. ::This thing gives me the creeps::
::Seriously:: said Tom.
Their instruments registered a skip signature nearby. They both jumped, automatically swiveling their weapon's mounts toward the hatch.
::Lieutenants:: said a BrainPal transmission. ::Please exit the vessel::
Tom tapped into the monitor on the hull and saw two Gamarans hovering just outside.
::They're ours:: he said and headed for the hatch.
::Sorry to startled you:: said one of the new arrivals. ::I'm Major Martin and this is Captain Lem::
::No worries, Major:: said Sam. ::Lieutenant Verne here had been grousing about a lack of action. You just gave him a two for one::
::Always glad to entertain the troops in the field:: said Martin with a 'grinning sub-text'. Then he 'vibed serious'. ::The captain and I will take over this operation now. Return to your blind. Record everything, but do not reveal yourselves under any circumstances::
::Yes, sir:: they both said, pinging 'attention/salute', then skipped back to their little piece of rock.
::I'm actually glad to get away from that thing:: said Sam.
::No argument there, ma'am:: said Tom.
They turned every monitor within range upon the action around the Horvathi ship. Martin and Lem had entered the ship. About twenty minutes passed. Then a new vessel skipped not a hundred klicks from the Horvathi ship, a Ghlagh battle cruiser, Ghasik class.
::Oh shit:: exclaimed Tom. The Ghlagh were key members of The Conclave.
They both passive scanned the thing. No markings. No IFF. Near zero EM signature. After a moment two shuttle craft emerged, both without markings and 'running dark'. But the first shuttle was clearly a Hinnus class general purpose shuttle, a CU design.
::That second puppy, the big one, it looks CU:: said Tom. :: I've never seen that design before::
::Me neither:: said Sam, glued to her gear. ::And I'm getting weird readings off that Ghasik::
::Not enough mass by half:: said Tom.
::And shadow readings from the skip drive:: said Sam.
::There are CU skip drive readings underneath!:: said Tom. ::It's a Q-Ship:: A 'Q-Ship' was an old naval term for ship disguised as another ship or type of ship.
While this exchange was taking place, the Hinnus shuttle had landed on the Horvathi hull and disgorged a trio of humans in EVA suits.
::Three Dirtsiders confirmed:: said Tom with satisfaction.
Meanwhile the larger shuttle had landed on the other side of the hull. It then just sat there. Time passed. The Dirtsiders emerged, along with Martin and Lem. The Dirtsiders re-boarded their shuttle and headed back to the Q-Ship. Martin and Lem moved had hitched a ride on the hull of the shuttle. The larger shuttle remained in place.
::Check this out:: said Tom breathlessly.
The bow of the Q-Ship was splitting open, like a huge set of jaws. The larger shuttle was maneuvering the Horvathi ship toward those 'jaws' as the Q-Ship moved forward.
::Wow:: is all Sam got out.
Within fourteen minutes the Q-ship had swallowed the Horvathi ship. Its 'jaws' closed and it headed out system at top speed in the direction of the nearest skip point. It had been a little over sixty four minutes since the Horvathi ship had appeared.
Sam and Tom were quite for a few moments.
::Okay, that was really far too interesting:: said Sam.
::Yah:: said Tom flatly. ::Lieutenant Dickinson, I strongly suggest we make like a shepherd and get the flock outta here::
::Right behind you, Lieutenant Verne:: said Sam.
They downloaded everything from all the various monitors into their central drive, which then downloaded that into the two skip drones and launched them off to classified coordinates. That done, the drive and the monitors were set to Self Destruct, an acid capsule rupturing and dissolved them all very quietly and thoroughly. They did a quick double check – netting all wrapped up, no miscellaneous gear left behind – then skipped out of the system to their pre-designated pickup location.
Down at Chiuul's space port the sun was just coming over the horizon, a dull glow through the overcast, and the morning run ore barges were warming up their engines, all totally oblivious to the recent little drama. Life, as ever, went on.
::That was lovely:: she said via BrainPal. ::Thank you:: She 'pinged' Tom a kiss.
::Yes, it was, wasn't it?:: Tom replied, 'pinging' her a kiss in return.
They hadn't had sex in a fashion that most humans would think of as 'sex', but felt just as good, which is what matters after all.
Lt. Samantha Dickinson and Lt. Thomas Verne were Gamarans, the turtle-like Colonial Defense Force Special Forces soldiers created to live and operate in space itself. Their 'copulation' was locking their shells together and hard linking their nervous systems. As their core psycho-biology was still human, the rest proceeded organically.
Normally, they would not have 'played nooky' while on a mission, but this one was proving to be a boring waste of time. They'd been hanging around the Chiuul system for two Standard weeks now, their mission based upon a CDF Intel tip that 'something important supposedly going to happen'. So far, nada.
The Chiuul were a very minor member of The Conclave with no colonies and only a handful of skip vessels. The Gamarans had scattered a couple of dozen melon sized monitors around the system, but they had shown nothing but the comings and goings of mining barges between the Chiuul home world and one of its three moons.
::What a shithole:: Tom had groused after twelve Standard days. ::Not even a freaking tramp freighter::
::Intel was pretty insistent:: Sam said.
::Well, I'm about ready to climb out of my shell:: Tom said.
Sam 'pinged' a coy smile. ::Maybe we can distract ourselves::
::Lieutenant Dickinson, are you suggesting we engage in Non-Regulation Behavior?:: He 'pinged' a smirk.
::I am the senior officer on site:: she replied. Her creche batch was six months older than his, making her five years old to his four and half.. Like all Special Forces, they were 'born' with a BrainPal and that brought one up to speed very quickly. Because they were functionally the smallest 'warships' in the Colonial Defense Force fleet – adhered to their shells were a small skip drive, a small reaction drive and four modified CDF personal weapons on flexible mounts – they were all commissioned Second Lieutenants upon completion of training.
They 'distracted' themselves only once per Standard day to maintain some semblance of mission discipline. Even that did help morale however.
They remained linked for a few minutes post distraction, then detached and drifted a few meters apart. There was silence as they checked the monitors even though they would have gotten a ping if something had happened. But all that had transpired was the last of the Chiuul ore barges landing and their sole space port shutting down as the planet rotated it into night.
They then watched the port's nighttime operations. It had gotten to the point where they could identify the various operators of the dirtside ore haulers by their driving patterns.
::I wish something would happen:: said Tom.
::Hush:: replied Sam.
::Seriously. The fate of the entire human race is in the balance and here we sit waiting for something that probably doesn't even exist::
::Well, the Consu could show up and challenge us to personal combat. Or maybe a Rraey fleet on the lookout for soup fixings::
Tom grumbled. ::Okay, okay. Point taken::
The Consu were a formidable race who had tapped a dwarf star to erect a energy shield around their home system and engaged in highly ritualized warfare for obscure religious reasons. And the Rraey just liked the taste of human flesh. As the Colonial Union was fond of pointing out, the universe was a dangerous place.
They were quiet again for few minutes, floating just above the tiny asteroid they'd made their 'base camp'. There were a half dozen monitors held down by netting to its surface and a pair of skip drones positioned on small launchers. Being self contained Gamarans didn't need any 'supplies', at least not for such a short term mission. Water was the only long term need and there was plenty of that frozen among the local asteroids.
Sam knew Tom well enough to be aware that he was stewing.
::Okay:: she said. ::Chunter away::
Even though he knew she was humoring him, he dove right in.
Of course he started in with the attack on Earth Station a little over three Standard months before. He was obsessed with that. Granted it was a tragic event and a political disaster for the Colonial Union. But it had unnerved Tom in a profound way.
In the corner of the galaxy in which humans found themselves, hundreds upon hundreds of spacefaring races competed for colonies. This resulted in frequent wars, massacres and the occasional genocide. When humans first ventured out onto this stage, they got their nose good and bloodied.
After those early setbacks, the Colonial Union was formed. It acquired alien technology and stabilized human colonization efforts. It created the Colonial Defense Force which fought for colonies and protected the ones acquired. It kept Earth isolated from the terrors of the universe and carefully farmed it for military personal and colonists. Things went on like this for over two centuries and worked out fairly well for the CU and its colonies. There was still constant warfare and colony stealing, but the CU held its own.
It was into this universe that Tom was born. He rather liked its relative stability and certainty. In this matter Tom and the CU leadership were very much in accord. And then everything changed.
As happens so often in history various events and 'blind forces' converge upon one man. Or, in this case, one Vreen, a General Gau, a highly capable veteran commander of that race. Gau had a vision, that it would be more fruitful for the various races to stop fighting for planets and to instead cooperatively settle them. And after a few decades of politically campaigning for this, The Conclave was born, a confederation of over four hundred races.
The key policy of The Conclave was that no colonization of any kind, by any race, member or non-member notwithstanding, was to be allowed without its approval. Any such action would cause The Conclave fleet to step in. The colony was given the choice of peaceful evacuation or total annihilation. Most chose the former.
While Sam and Tom disagreed on a number of political issues, they were both in full agreement that this was mighty damned presumptuous on the part of The Conclave. The CU's leadership was also of such an opinion and then some. As is was their wont, they immediately went about trying to put a stick into The Conclave's spokes.
What they did was run a classic 'wheels within wheels within wheels bait and switch' Colonial Union gambit.
::Sometimes we're too clever for our own good:: Sam had been known to remark, a point which given later events, Tom was forced to admit, however ruefully.
For a long time various citizen's groups within the CU had advocated for colonies to be founded from existing CU colony worlds instead of solely using colonists from Earth. CU leadership demurred because A; they knew these colonies simply wanted to expand their own political power base – the CU was not keen on funding internal competition – and B; the CU wanted to maximized population growth on each colony world, not disperse it among new ones, especially when the new colonists from Earth were both plentiful and relatively docile. After all they would be out in the big scary universe and totally dependent on the CU for several years.
Now, faced with The Conclave's 'diktat', the CU decided that intracolonization was a 'good idea'...with a twist. The new colony would be made up of an equal number colonists from ten different CU colonies and with a separate colonial leadership appointed by the CU. There was the obligatory grumbling over the latter, but the truth is none of them wanted to cede anything to the others, so they accepted the CU's decision.
The colony was to be called Roanoke, a name which should have raised red flags that the CU was up to its usual tricks. But the only colonist originally from Earth was the Colonial Administrator, John Perry, and he had his hands full wrangling the ten colonial factions. Besides, everyone was focused on the obvious fact that founding Roanoke was a slap in the face to The Conclave, also a rather distracting issue.
The first clue that things were amiss was when the Magellan, the ship transporting the colonists and their equipment, skipped to an unknown world, which meant they started off 'lost', as without knowing where they were, no return course could be plotted. Left its crew stuck there as well.
Perry had everyone hunker down and 'live primitive', meaning no modern gear to be used because their wireless tech would give them away and they knew damned well The Conclave would be looking for them. That the Magellan had carried a fair amount of low tech gear and that a faction of Technological Mennonites had been included among the colonists largely confirmed that the CU had planned this.
::That was truly immoral:: Sam said. ::We're supposed to protect our people, not use them as tethered goats::
::We get put in harm's way all the time:: Tom protested, though half-heartedly.
::You know perfectly well that's not the same. We're professionals. That's our job:: Sam said passionately. But she allowed him to continue. Ranting was his therapy out here.
Sam also knew that this was a touchy subject for many Gamarans because it was one of their own, the now infamous Lt. Stross, who had hitch-hiked on the Magellan's hull and then was the bearer of all the above bad tidings. When John Perry revealed all the details of this whole benighted operation to Earth [and everyone else] a year and half later, Stross came off, at best, as a feckless dupe of the CU or, at worst, merely an indifferent functionary of the same. Not the optimal way to have the existence of your kind unveiled.
That said however, Perry also revealed that the Gamarans had been key to the plan to destroy The Conclave fleet at Roanoke, that after CDF Intelligence had tracked the flagships of all of the four hundred and twelve races that made up said fleet – Gau's idea was to create mutual responsibility – it was the Gamarans who slipped in and planted antimatter bombs upon each and every one of those flagships, bombs which were simultaneously detonated in the skies above Roanoke as Perry and Gau watched from the surface.
Even though the political goals of the plan failed – to cause The Conclave to unravel – the Gamarans were justifiable proud of their accomplishment. They executed the tactical portion flawlessly. That the greater strategy collapsed with beyond their control and certainly beyond their remit.
What in fact unraveled after that was everything. There were attacks upon the CU by both Conclave and non-Conclave races with greater and greater frequency. There was an attempted to assassinate Gau by a faction that wanted to annihilated all of humanity, an attempt that was thwarted by Perry's adopted daughter, Zoë Boutin-Perry, with help from The Obin, a race who worshiped her, plus an unnerving intervention by a Consu on his Death Journey. Another attack on Roanoke. And then Perry's famous [or infamous, depending upon one's point of view] journey to Earth with a Conclave merchant fleet, one ship from each of the aforementioned four hundred and twelve races, which essentially blew the lid off everything the CU had been keeping secret for over two centuries.
That seemed to dampen most of the fires for a while. The CU then tried to repair the relationship by proposing that the various Earth governments lease Earth Station and run it themselves, plus numerous other inducements.
At this point in his rant Tom would start getting morose. He'd had something of an infatuation with Earth Station ever since he'd first became aware of it. He read everything he could find about it, from its history to traveler's accounts.
Earth Station – also known locally as Colonial Station – had been humankind's greatest engineering feat to date. It wasn't the station itself however. At one point seven kilometers in diameter it was barely even a tenth the size of Phoenix Station, the CU's principle transit station in Geo-sync above its capital colony. Granted that size did impress 'the locals', Earth's inhabitants who never got to see what was going on out in the universe.
No, what was impressive about Earth Station, even to non-human races, was The Beanstalk, the massive space elevator that went from its base at Nairobi to Earth Station hovering roughly ten thousand kilometers above it. Earth's scientific community could not even begin to figure out the physics involved. And that was precisely the point.
The Beanstalk was meant as a psychological and political tool, one designed specifically to intimidate the governments and peoples of the home world. It wasn't even the most effective way to operate surface-to-orbit transport. Shuttles were. But it certainly was the most spectacular. And it served that psychological and political purpose for over a century and quarter.
Therefore its destruction had a psychological and political effect that far far outweighed the actual infrastructure damage. It certainly shook the Colonial Union to its very foundations.
In the year or so after the Roanoak debacle, a 'third force' had quietly emerged. No-one knew who they were, where the came from or what their goals were, though it seemed clear that said goals were inimical to the CU's interests. Both CU and Conclave ships vanished without any trace.
A subtle but vicious campaign of spying and sabotage was waged against the CU on Earth and out in CU territory, including the use of a very effective brainwashing tech that was, up to that point, totally unknown.
And then there was the appearance of what was called a Brain Ship, a uncrewed vessel with a sentient brain as both captain and crew. What was most terrifying about was that the 'brain pilot' was itself a captive and knew nothing of its captors.
When the conference to lease Earth Station was just getting underway, fifteen CU ships, all of them among the 'vanished ships', skipped into Sol System and attacked Earth Station. They used CU missiles to destroy it in a manner that would inflect maximum casualties. The cream of Earth's diplomatic corps was massacred in a matter of minutes and The Beanstalk came crashing down.
The Clarke, the sole CU ship that managed to break station and launch a counterattack, was able to determine that the attacking ships were all 'brain piloted' before it too was destroyed. But that information had near zero effect upon the aftermath. The Colonial Union was, for all intents and purposes, politically and psychologically completely cut off from Earth...which meant that the fate of the human race was in doubt.
At this point in his rant, Tom would lapse into a morose silence that so far Sam had not been able to positively effect. She'd have to just let him stew. But she knew that was not acceptable and had recently thought of a new tack. It had the great benefit of being true.
She allowed herself to drift over and gently bump against him. Then she said softly, ::We're the fail safe for the human race:: She could tell he perked right up at that. ::Explain:: he said, his tone conveying a mix of hope and skepticism.
::As far as we know, we're the only beings who live in raw space. Even if The Conclave or the so-called 'third force' or whomever attacks and wipes out Earth and the CU, we still exist out here. And we're very hard to find::
::Yes, we certainly can be:: he added.
Sam warmed to her subject. At this point in its history, the Colonial Union had been genetically engineering human beings for well over two centuries. It had become quite expert at this, better than any other race – the Consu excepted – and the only race that practiced such upon itself so extensively.
It had started with simple cybernetic and genetic enhancements of existing humans, but quickly progressed to cloning and consciousness transference as the alien technology needed to do so was acquired. Thus was born the CDF policy of recruiting seventy five year old's from Earth's First World nations, though in practice those recruits largely came from the United States. That was not an random choice.
The famous green completion of the CDF clone bodies those former 'old folks' now inhabited was an early development. It also had the not undesired side effect of psycho-emotionally separating the CDF from both the new colonists from the Third World and the populations of already established colonies. The CDF became its own culture.
Out of that culture came the Ghost Brigades, CDF clones 'hatched raw' with no preexisting consciousness, but only a BrainPal, which guided these clones into an identity that was essentially a mix of CDF culture and their own genetic predispositions. The source of their DNA were the Earth recruits who had signed up, but who, for whatever reason, had never made it to the transfer process. These 'Ghosts', which was a slightly derogatory term, went into the CDF's Special Forces and operated apart from the main CDF most of the time. This added to their aura of mystery.
The very first Gamarans were Special Forces Ghosts who had their consciousness transferred into the new bioforms. But once the concept proved successful, Gamarans came into being like any other Ghost; 'hatched raw' with no preexisting conscious and with only a BrainPal to guide them. Basically, 'if it ain't broke, don't fix it'.
The oldest Gamaran was now just about thirteen. All Ghosts 'grew up' quickly and the Gamarans were no exception.
They spent four fifths of their lives in the raw vacuum of space itself, but it was soon understood that they needed some sort of home worlds to effectively function. So the CDF took a 'mini-world', a large asteroid in the Monroe system, partially hollowed it out and equipped it as a Gamaran home world. That system was chosen because Monroe was the colony were Ghosts retired and everyone there knew how to keep their mouths shut.
Anacreon was two hundred by three hundred by one and forty kilometers. Though it had been constructed mostly by Homo Mundi – or Dirtsiders as they were generally known – it was run almost exclusively by Gamarans. [Homo Gamarus as they came to call themselves] Most importantly, Anacreon possessed a birthing creche.
There were six more 'home worlds' like Anacreon, all of them in non-colony systems and those locations the greatest of secrets. Plus there were a few hundred smaller asteroid bases, ones like Mondas, Sam and Tom's home base, a fully hollowed out asteroid, four by six by two kilometers. It had been constructed entirely by Gamarans, with no Mundai on site.
::See, we humans will survive, no matter what:: Sam said. ::And if the Dirtsiders are wiped out, we shall avenge them in due course.::
She could feel Tom unwinding. ::Do you think the CDF big wigs think about that?::
::I have no doubt. Look how self sufficient they have allowed us to be:: she said. ::Once they saw what we are capable of...well, it's no secret how precarious our position as a race is out here:: She really wasn't all that sure about this, but she certainly hoped this was the case. The CDF 'big wigs' had a well earned reputation as a tricky bunch of bastards.
Tom mulled all this over for a while. Sam could hear the gears in his brain grinding.
::Well, I'll tell you what:: he said at last. ::Just to be sure, I think we should talk this whole idea over with the rest of the squadron and see what they have to say::
::Sure:: said Sam. ::Discussing ways to promote the ongoing survival of the human race is within regulation as far as I'm concerned:: They 'pinged' smiles at each other.
While this whole exchange had been going on, they had of course keep watch on their various instruments and on the comings and going of the night shift down on Chiuul's spaceport.
::What do they do with all that damned ore?:: Tom exclaimed. Sam took that as a good sign. He was back to his normal complaining.
::Make it into ingots and stack 'em until buyers show up:: she said calmly.
He grumped. She laughed.
::Well, back to watching and waiting:: he said.
::Still restless?:: she asked.
::You know me. Twitchy by nature:: he said and laughed.
::Then let us contemplate the stars:: she said, uttering the Quiet Summons of Yūgen.
She could feel the last of the restlessness drain out of him.
::Yes:: he said very softly.
Yūgen was a term used in Japanese Aesthetics. It had no direct English translation. Most volumes defined it as “a profound, mysterious sense of the beauty of the universe and the sad beauty of human suffering.”
A half dozen years back a Gamaran named Rachel Banks had started a meditational practice she called Yūgen. It was based upon that “profound mysterious sense of the beauty.” She felt it natural that as the Gamarans lived the majority of their lives, as she put it, “naked within the Universe,” that they “had a unique relationship with it and a singular perspective within it.”
Major Banks – her spiritual practice had not affected her career – was a native of Trantor, a Gamaran 'home world' which was also where Sam and Tom were born. As such they were among the first to discover and adopt it. They had even studied directed with Banks.
Yūgen had spread like wildfire among the Gamarans and even to some Mundi Special Forces troopers. As it was about 'inner peace', not 'pacifism' – all Ghosts knew full well how dangerous it was out there – the CDF 'big wigs' allowed it to flourish unhindered.
It was one of the wisest decisions they ever made. Gamarans who practiced Yūgen turned out to more stable and effective than those who didn't.
Sam and Tom turned their attention to the vast beauty of The Universe and drank it in.
The hours passed...
...then their sensors started popping. A ship had skipped in system. They quietly checked all their readings.
::I've got a Horvathi ship, some type of medium sized transport, non-military:: said Tom.
::Affirmative across the board:: said Sam.
::Got an ID. She is listed as one of The Conclave vessels that 'disappeared':: said Tom.
::Affirmative:: said Sam.
They waited and observed for several minutes.
::She seems dead in the water:: said Tom.
::I'm not getting anything either. All her systems appear to have shut down right after she skipped in:: She pinged a sigh. ::Looks like we're going to have earn our pay after all::
::Well, I wanted something to happen:: said Tom ruefully. ::I'll fire off a skip drone and grab a monitor::
They skipped to the vessel's location. It had clearly sustained damage, some kind of shrapnel, but was largely intact. On its hull was a name in Horvathi script which said either Wanderer or Drifter in Horvathi, though in one sub-dialect it meant 'vagrant'. The two of them slowly maneuvered around the hull. She seemed dead close up as well.
::In for penny:: said Sam and headed for the main hatch. They both mentally held their breath as she used the manual override to open it. No alarms went off and nothing blew up. Leaving the monitor on the hull, they entered. Just as dead inside as well.
And bare naked, too. Anything 'live crew' related had been stripped out. The Wanderer or Drifter or whatever she was called was an airless empty hull...except for the brain pilot casing. Which had a shrapnel gash straight through it.
::Guess that's why she's dead:: mused Tom.
::Maybe:: replied Sam. She looked around the vacant hull. ::This thing gives me the creeps::
::Seriously:: said Tom.
Their instruments registered a skip signature nearby. They both jumped, automatically swiveling their weapon's mounts toward the hatch.
::Lieutenants:: said a BrainPal transmission. ::Please exit the vessel::
Tom tapped into the monitor on the hull and saw two Gamarans hovering just outside.
::They're ours:: he said and headed for the hatch.
::Sorry to startled you:: said one of the new arrivals. ::I'm Major Martin and this is Captain Lem::
::No worries, Major:: said Sam. ::Lieutenant Verne here had been grousing about a lack of action. You just gave him a two for one::
::Always glad to entertain the troops in the field:: said Martin with a 'grinning sub-text'. Then he 'vibed serious'. ::The captain and I will take over this operation now. Return to your blind. Record everything, but do not reveal yourselves under any circumstances::
::Yes, sir:: they both said, pinging 'attention/salute', then skipped back to their little piece of rock.
::I'm actually glad to get away from that thing:: said Sam.
::No argument there, ma'am:: said Tom.
They turned every monitor within range upon the action around the Horvathi ship. Martin and Lem had entered the ship. About twenty minutes passed. Then a new vessel skipped not a hundred klicks from the Horvathi ship, a Ghlagh battle cruiser, Ghasik class.
::Oh shit:: exclaimed Tom. The Ghlagh were key members of The Conclave.
They both passive scanned the thing. No markings. No IFF. Near zero EM signature. After a moment two shuttle craft emerged, both without markings and 'running dark'. But the first shuttle was clearly a Hinnus class general purpose shuttle, a CU design.
::That second puppy, the big one, it looks CU:: said Tom. :: I've never seen that design before::
::Me neither:: said Sam, glued to her gear. ::And I'm getting weird readings off that Ghasik::
::Not enough mass by half:: said Tom.
::And shadow readings from the skip drive:: said Sam.
::There are CU skip drive readings underneath!:: said Tom. ::It's a Q-Ship:: A 'Q-Ship' was an old naval term for ship disguised as another ship or type of ship.
While this exchange was taking place, the Hinnus shuttle had landed on the Horvathi hull and disgorged a trio of humans in EVA suits.
::Three Dirtsiders confirmed:: said Tom with satisfaction.
Meanwhile the larger shuttle had landed on the other side of the hull. It then just sat there. Time passed. The Dirtsiders emerged, along with Martin and Lem. The Dirtsiders re-boarded their shuttle and headed back to the Q-Ship. Martin and Lem moved had hitched a ride on the hull of the shuttle. The larger shuttle remained in place.
::Check this out:: said Tom breathlessly.
The bow of the Q-Ship was splitting open, like a huge set of jaws. The larger shuttle was maneuvering the Horvathi ship toward those 'jaws' as the Q-Ship moved forward.
::Wow:: is all Sam got out.
Within fourteen minutes the Q-ship had swallowed the Horvathi ship. Its 'jaws' closed and it headed out system at top speed in the direction of the nearest skip point. It had been a little over sixty four minutes since the Horvathi ship had appeared.
Sam and Tom were quite for a few moments.
::Okay, that was really far too interesting:: said Sam.
::Yah:: said Tom flatly. ::Lieutenant Dickinson, I strongly suggest we make like a shepherd and get the flock outta here::
::Right behind you, Lieutenant Verne:: said Sam.
They downloaded everything from all the various monitors into their central drive, which then downloaded that into the two skip drones and launched them off to classified coordinates. That done, the drive and the monitors were set to Self Destruct, an acid capsule rupturing and dissolved them all very quietly and thoroughly. They did a quick double check – netting all wrapped up, no miscellaneous gear left behind – then skipped out of the system to their pre-designated pickup location.
Down at Chiuul's space port the sun was just coming over the horizon, a dull glow through the overcast, and the morning run ore barges were warming up their engines, all totally oblivious to the recent little drama. Life, as ever, went on.
