Unlikely Coincidences Even though the voyage back from enemy space took at least ten days, sometimes more, the contrast between the starting point and the destination always felt immense. The people who gave him the messages, undercover agents, probably, had this aura of enormous purpose and importance, mixed with alertness and fear, sometimes to the extent that they were visibly shaking. Not surprisingly, considering that they were Federal spies in Imperial systems and thus faced a slow and unbelievably excruciating death if they were caught. The procedures when they handed the holocubes over to him were very complicated and had to be prepared and carried out with the utmost precision. The recognition signal alone would sometimes be so elaborate that it took days of small and, hopefully, nearly undetectable acts to complete. Imperial Security had eyes everywhere, and the atmosphere surrounding these deliveries was always one of mystery and unreality. And fear; for although Ranie never spent more time on enemy soil than it took to complete the recognition and the delivery, he was continuously in grave danger. Not just when he was on Imperial worlds posing as an independent trader, but especially after he had taken off into space. If they knew what he was doing and wanted him dead, they could easily analyse his hyperspace cloud and jump to the next system. Their presumably superior hyperdrives would allow them to arrive there well before he did, so they could lie in wait and leisurely blast him to smithereens when he emerged. He wouldn't even have time to get his shields up. So when, after having successfully reached Sol, he delivered the holocubes to the Major who was head of Military Couriers on Li Qing Jao, he was always disappointed. Indeed, he sometimes felt downright outraged. The Major's coldness and indifference surprised and shocked him every time. The man would just swipe the holocubes out of Ranies hand and return to his office, sometimes without a word. And always without a congratulatory pat on the back. Why didn't he recognize that Ranie had just risked life and limb carrying the holocubes from Imperial space? Had he no idea of the terror the agents quite rightly felt? Had he no words of encouragement? Surely High Command valued the messages? Those agents feared for their lives! Every time, after meeting the Major, he went back into his ship and was engulfed in a brief, but black depression, feeling cheated beyond belief. - - - This time was a bit different, although still disappointing. The Major, disguised as a serviceman from the shipyard, came over to Ranie, who was standing by his Eagle, and took the single holocube without meeting Ranies eyes. But he didn't turn his back right away. "Go here immediately." He put a small destructapad in Ranies still outstretched hand, turned on his heel and rapidly marched toward the exit. On the pad was a hand-written address in the civilian section of the station. Highly irregular. Ranie quickly memorised it and folded the thin pad in half. Immediately it dissolved in thin air without dust or smoke. He straightened his jumpsuit and started for the lifts. - - - "You've been burned." Ranie stood at attention in front of a wide desk in what had turned out to be a military office. The man in the chair behind it wore a Colonel's insignia on his pristine uniform. He was older than Ranie, but not much, and what he had just said did not sound good. Not good at all. "Er... what does that mean, sir?" "It means they're on to you. The Imperials." Ranie felt the blood draining from his face and approximately a Panther-load of ice settling firmly in his stomach. Chaos and shame erupted in his mind. And an irresistible need to defend himself. "Bbbut... I always..." "Yes, I know," the Colonel interrupted. "You always follow instructions and always make sure you are not being watched. We know you take all possible precautions. Don't worry. It happens. You're not the first. Not by a long shot." He smiled thinly. "But how? I don't understand." "It doesn't matter how. At least not to you. Try to accept that it just happens." That didn't help much. Ranie was thoroughly confused. "Did they..." Again the Colonel interrupted, now slightly impatient. "It doesn't matter. Nor does it matter how we know. Your security clearance is not nearly high enough for me to tell you anything about that." The officer leaned back in his chair and fixed his gaze on Ranie. "In fact, your clearance doesn't even reach to the point where you have the right to know that you've been burned. You're lucky we didn't just give you a window seat." Ranie gulped, the full seriousness of the situation becoming apparent to him. Oh yes, they could have given him a window seat, all right. They could have taken his ship away, put him in a small office in a far away installation but not given him anything to do. He would come to work but then just sit there, behind his empty desk, day after day after day, shunned by all and recognized by no-one. Getting paid and earning pension points, but never again being promoted. Producing nothing, just taking up space, not knowing why. Alive but dead. The reason why this arrangement was known as a "window seat" was lost in the mists of time, but the meaning was very clear to all in the Federal Military. For security reasons, nobody were ever fired from the Service. Nor were anyone executed when they were no longer of any use, as was common practice in the Empire. The window seat was considered far more civilised, at least by those who had never been given one. Ranie just stood there, still at attention, waiting for the Colonel to continue. After all, he had said that Ranie would not get a window seat. For now. "Don't feel too bad. Remember that you were trusted enough by High Command to be allowed to meet illegitimate agents face to face. Very few of your age and rank get such extraordinary trust. We still have faith in you. And as luck would have it, a job for you. A real one. An important one." The Colonel indicated a chair, and Ranie apprehensively sat down on the edge of it. "Now then. You will be issued command of a ship in the Cobra III class. You are going to a system the name and coordinates of which are stored in this holocube, which is not to be opened until you've jumped to Eta Cassiopeia." He put the small black cube on the table. "You will bring this with you." Another small cube, this one silver, joined the other on the transparisteel. "You will give it to a Federation Lieutenant present in the system. He will contact you." The Colonel leaned forward over the desk and looked at Ranie sternly. "It is an unsettled system. It is far away. The Federation has discovered an interesting resource there. Scientists are present. I cannot overemphasize how vital it is that you bring this message safely to that system. You will disguise your tracks thoroughly by jumping about aimlessly before you set course for the target system. The precise route you will take is stored in the black cube. You will not open the silver cube. You will need to refuel in unsettled systems, so the ship will be fitted with a fuel scoop. And a laser, although we do not expect you to be attacked. You will never discuss this mission with anyone. You will leave immediately. Repeat." As Ranie put Li Qing Jao behind him, the Cobra hummed calmly and his emotions were divided. On one hand, he had been given a secret and important mission and a great ship of the kind one otherwise had to be at least Sergeant-Major to get. On the other hand, he had failed High Command's trust and been on the verge of getting window-seated. There was no way of telling how this would affect his career. He would have to wait and see, but it seemed reasonable that if he completed this mission, there would still be hope. That was his only chance, anyway. He set the drive to Eta Cassiopeia and prepared to jump. He had enough fuel to get well into unsettled space, but of course he didn't know where the orders in the holocube would take him. Rarely had he travelled in such a stripped-out ship. The only offensive equipment he had was a 1MW pulse laser, a mere joke of a weapon. No missiles. No combat computer. No ECM. And no shields. Yes indeed, he had better hope that the Colonel was right in not expecting trouble, because in no way was this ship combat-worthy. But it could travel far. He made the jump. - - - A month later he was deep in unsettled space and one jump away from refuelling for the third time since leaving Sol. It was a tricky procedure which required intense concentration on the part of the pilot. The autopilot was not up to a delicate task like that. Basically, he had to take the ship into the corona of a star, so that the valuable gases there present could be sucked into the fuel containers. The only way to make it work was to go so near the star that the gases were thich enough to use, but not so near that the hull became too hot. It was necessary to keep such a speed that the gravity forces did not get the upper hand, and this made manouvering more difficult. In the intense gravity and radiation the smallest mistake was enough to make him lose control and have the ship plunge into the star. He did not feel significantly more confident now than the last time he had done it, just over a week ago. But it should prove a bit easier this time, for the charts showed the target star as a red giant, and the navigation didn't have to be as pin-point precise as with a smaller star. He would make the jump into the system and then refuel. The jump only took a few seconds, subjectively. As he emerged from hyperspace, leaving an enormous, yellow, telltale cloud in his wake, his sensors picked up an emergency signal. Military procedure dictated that he not investigate such signals if on a mission, unless the signal could be decoded as coming from a Federal Military ship. He put it on audio and the signal filled his cockpit. There could be no doubt. A Federal Military ship was in distress somewhere in this system, and not too far away. Major complication. Blast, this was just what he needed. He swore viciously. What to do? He had been instructed not to talk to anyone about his mission, and if he investigated and found survivors they would wonder what in space he was doing there. He would also have to take them with him. Survivors. Soldiers like him, trapped in a deserted system, with no hope of rescue. A fate he didn't wish on his worst enemy. And according to regulations, he had to give assistance. Was there an exception if the mission he was on was secret? And if so, did this mission qualify? The smart thing to do would be to disregard the signal and continue. If confronted later, which seemed unlikely, he could always claim he had not received any signal; after all, it was far from strong enough to reach every part of the system. Yes. That would be the smart thing to do. Disregard it. Pretend it isn't there. The coded beeps reverberated through the cabin. He swore again, swung the ship around and locked the navicomputer onto the signal. The ship accelerated as the autopilot started taking him to the signal's source. It was just one and a half astronomical units away, about equally as far from the red giant as he had been when he first entered the system. He spent the journey there worrying about his decision. He would be delayed and could conceivably have broken military regulations. He could be forced to take aboard passengers. What it they outranked him, which they probably did? They could order that they be taken to the nearest Federal outpost before he could continue with his mission. Further delay and, consequently, immediate windowseating. Or a court-martial. Space almighty, what a mess. When he was ten kilometres away from the signal's source he disengaged the autopilot. He could not yet see the distressed ship, so it couldn't be that big. He approached slowly. Gee, it would have to be really small. A Falcon, perhaps. Or a Hawk. Then he saw it. An escape pod. A small, one man escape pod, lying still in space and blinking red. Ranie felt somewhat relieved. At least he wouldn't have to take aboard an entire crew. One person at the most. He positioned the Cobra so that the inflight loading system could get a grip on the little pod and bring it into the cargo hold. The ship shuddered slightly as the hatch opened and closed. The emergency signal stopped. He set the navicomputer for the red giant and turned the autopilot on. Then he unfastened his harness, stood up stretching limbs that had been tense for too long and made his way aft, toward the cargo bay. He made sure that the air pressure had been restored, entered the cargo bay and approached the escape pod which was now fastened to the deck, exit-hatch up. He inexplicably wished he'd had a sidearm. There was something about bringing an unknown object into his ship that gave him the creeps. Nothing about the exterior of the pod could tell him what had happened to the ship, no scorch marks or laser burns. With one space-gloved hand he pressed the clearly marked release on the hatch and stood back as it slowly swung open with a sharp hiss as the air pressure was equalized. Nothing moved inside. "Hello?", Ranie called into the cramped, dark cabin. "Anyone there?" Silence. Oh well. He slowly and carefully stuck his head inside, centimeter by centimeter. Military space boots. OK, so at least there was a person inside. The bottom half of a Federal spacesuit. No surprise there, except that it was blue instead of the standard grey. The upper half. Wow, a Commodore! Big brass. And the face... A man. Dead. Without question. Mouth half open, eyes half closed, staring at nothing. A dead Commodore. And judging from the lack of battle damage, he had not died violently. That meant dehydration. An escape pod can only carry a little bit of water, about a hundred liters. That is sufficient to keep a man alive for about twice as many days, if he is disciplined. There is no food in a pod; water is far more crucial to survival. Of course, a pod is a closed system, so it should be possible, theoretically at least, to recycle any water present almost indefinitely. But that takes energy, and lots of it. It's a trade-off: water or oxygen and a distress signal. The oxygen wins. Ranie had to admit to himself that he was relieved not to have found survivors, because it would have ruined his mission and, in all likelyhood, his career. Still, some sadness seeped through. Dead people will do that to you, and Ranie was not quite as emotionally dead as his superior, the Colonel. The body was well preserved, as could be expected; the minute a pod's computer notices that the occupant is no longer breathing, it lets out all the air and stops the air processor. No need on wasting power on that, better to keep the distress signal going. It could matter to someone to find out what has happened to the person inside. The lack of air halts the decomposing process, so that the deceased can still be identified when found. And the rescuers have an easier time. The red giant was 10 AUs away and Ranie didn't have much to do except Dreamware, so he decided to check the pod out, trying to discover where it came from and what had happened. He put the dead Commodore in a small compartment and pumped the air out of it, having gingerly searched the pockets of the uniform and found nothing. He would leave the autopsy to the medics. He took a power coupling from the Cobra and connected it to the appropriate point on the pod, then sat in the dead man's seat and turned on the lights. A thorough search revealed nothing of interest. He switched the navicomputer on. It was the original one from the Commodore's ship. Not much use for it in an unsettled system. No ports to lock on to. He engaged the log book function and scrolled backwards to find out where the ship had been. It was all erased except for one set of galactic coordinates. But those had to be wrong; they were too far away. He shut the navicomputer off. Right. He looked around one final time, saw nothing that caught his eye and exited the pod. He made sure it was properly fastened, went back to the cockpit and promptly forgot the entire incident. - - - Three weeks later he was approaching his destination system, according to the holocube. Only one more jump before he could deliver the message. The weeks he had spent in hyperspace and in-system transits to refuel at a star were taking their toll, and in spite of the Dreamware he was feeling more and more restless and lonely. The small cabin of the Cobra provided few luxuries, and the boredom was getting to him. The psyching-up techniques he had learned at the Academy had lost most of their effect and he was grateful his mission would soon be over. Hopefully, he would be able to take the quickest route back to Sol. Sol and an unknown fate. He pushed his negative thoughts away and made the jump. White spirals lunged at him as usual and, although he didn't sense time racing by, the ship's chrono passed through days. The attack-alarm sounded immediately. He hadn't heard it for months and for a second he couldn't remember what it meant. When the realization hit him that he was being attacked, he desperately looked around, trying to spot the attackers. The scanner revealed that they were only three kilometres away and that there was four of them. He spotted them. There were two Adders, a Cobra and a Kestrel. And they were Federal Military. Ahh. Thank the Skies. Allies. The intended recipient of the message had probably come to get the message he carried, which was exce... The ship shuddered violently and there was a tremendous noise of metal being torn as a laser beam raked across the hull. What the... Were they attacking him? Instinctively, Ranie gunned the engines and set an escape vector, his right hand resting lightly on the laser trigger. Red beams criss-crossed space around him, but none hit due to his quick reaction of setting the ship in motion. Speed was increasing rapidly, and he was putting some distance between himself and the attackers. Except for the Kestrel, which kept up with him, trying to hit him with the bursts of its pulse laser. It was obvious what the pilot was trying to do: put the fighter behind Ranie and comfortably get in a few shots. Ranie wasn't going to let that happen. He fired the retro thrusters at full effect and the Kestrel, its pilot not fast enough on the controls and not having thrusters that could quite match the deceleration, overshot the Cobra and was suddenly in front of it. Ranie quickly got it in his sights and blew the little spaceship to pieces with two pulses of 1MW laser. He didn't have time to wipe the sweat from his brow. The manouver he had just pulled had the unwanted side-effect of letting the two enemy Adders close in on him. Red streaks played up and again there was a hit. In the corner of his eye Ranie saw a message from the ship computer telling him that something had been damaged, but he didn't see what it was and had no time to contemplate on it. Turning around, he was able to get a passing hit on one of his adversaries, but he knew it would take more than that to get a kill. The Adders were a lot bigger than the Kestrel and could take quite a beating. As he recalled, Adders could not accelerate quite as fast as his Cobra, so there was a slim chance that he might outrun them. Too slim, in fact. They would kill him before the distance got too great, and there was still the question of the enemy Cobra, which appeared to be hanging back and just watching. He threw the ship around again, violently shaking the controls to make it harder for them to hit him. He kept at it as the ship accelerated hard. He put a kilometer between himself and the attackers, then, still going in the same direction, turned 180 degrees and sent off a couple of pulses. Only one of them hit, and smoke started coming from one Adder's hull. Great, but not great enough. He had to think of something, fast. This could not continue. Both Adders accelerated towards him, coming in from slightly different angles, both determined to kill him. He squeezed off another two pulses, missed, and braced himself for their laser fire. They missed too as they swooped past and decelerated furiously to turn around and have another go. Oh yes, they were determined. Too determined for their own good. They came at him simultaneously, again from different angles, spitting red beams. He accelerated towards them at full thrust. They had not expected that, and as the distance was diminishing fast, one of the Adders tried to veer out of the way. But Ranie's oncoming angle was such that the pilot had to bank the other way, towards his collegue, who was at the same time turning towards the first, trying to get Ranie in his sights. They collided and exploded in a hailstorm of debris as both their main drives were destroyed. Containers of military fuel were sprayed out in all directions from the two rapidly expanding plumes of smoke, one hitting Ranie's Cobra, further reducing the shape of its hull. And now the enemy Cobra attacked. It came at him very fast, the brilliant red of its laser streaking across space and then connecting, tearing more material from his hull and destroying vital systems. He was able to get a hit with his pulse laser before that also was blown up by the enemy's red streak. The Cobra swooped past, the symbol of the Federation clearly visible on its side. Ranie ducked involuntarily. This was it. Hull integrity was down to twenty percent, the laser was destroyed, all the fuel was gone, and the main drive was out. Just a single, split second burst of the enemy laser would finish him off. He had no escape pod, except the one he now remembered was strapped to the deck in the cargo hold. But as it was not properly installed, it was unusable to him. As the attacking Cobra turned to make the next, and final, attack run, he vaguely wished that he had a higher power to plead for help. Couldn't have hurt, anyway. Oh well. He decided to go out in style, and forcing his face muscles into an insane grin, he tried to come up with some classy last words. Not that anyone would ever hear them. Suddenly, in a bright, electric blue flash, the enemy ship exploded. Shrapnel pummeled his ship, apparently without doing any damage. He was dumbstruck. Good skies, he must have hit it better that he thought! Just one hit from a pulse laser should not be a problem for a heavily shielded Cobra, it was- He didn't have time to finish the thought before a great shape zoomed past overhead, the dark underside of a huge hull momentarily filling the main viewscreen. Another ship, and quite a biggie. And quite Imperial, according to his head-up display, the only system on his Cobra still working. An Imperial Explorer, the biggest warship the Empire had. Crap. This was it after all. The Imperials were going to blast him out of space. Those damn sadists even made him wait for it; they could easily have made the kill right after they blew up the other Cobra. Judging from the ease with which they had done that, it was a fair assumption that their main weapon was a plasma accelerator. Unexpectedly, Ranie felt a sense of peace flood over him; there was nothing he could do now. It would be a quick and painless death. He wouldn't even know when it came; he would vaporize instantly. He was even relieved that he was now going to be killed by the Empire and not by his own Federation comrades for unknown reasons. Ah yes, this was much better; this was the way it was supposed to be. The Explorer turned lazily and aimed. Ranie closed his eyes and relaxed. Oh, to see Earth again. "Federation warship, power down your engines and prepare to be boarded. Acknowledge." A man's voice boomed through the cockpit. Ranie slowly opened his eyes, realizing that the Explorer was hailing him. It was rapidly closing on him from the bow. The realization dawned on him. Oh no. Not that. Not capture by Imperials. That was exactly what the shivering, paranoid undercover agents he had met on Imperial worlds feared the most, feared more than death itself. It did mean death, of course. But not right away. He would live a bit longer but his death would be correspondingly slower, while the Imperials extracted all he knew about anything, ever. Until he would start making things up to appease them; a hopeless venture. Suddenly panicking, he scrambled wildly, yanking at his combat harness, trying to get free. He had to find something to kill himself with! He had to die before they got him. He had to die right away. "Federation warship, you will be boarded presently. For your own safety, do not make sudden manouvers while the tractor beam is operating. Do not attempt to leave the vessel." The Explorer loomed large and threatening above and ahead. The Cobra trembled slightly as the tractor beam pulled it into the Explorer's hangar. Ranie didn't notice, he was busy desperately clawing at the air-tight hatch to the utility compartment, where he had to find something to kill himself with. Something sharp. Or something heavy. He couldn't get the hatch open; it must have jammed during the fight. Space almighty, why didn't the Federation issue suicide pills or guns to its commanders? There was a thundering clang as the Imperial hangar bay hatch sealed itself around him. Not much longer now. They would be with him any second. Tears of panic burned behind his eyes as he furiously banged on the hatch with his fists, whimpering uncontrollably, hopelessness and resignation starting to set in. The horrible scream of a metal hull being ripped open reached him from the cargo bay. No. They could not take him alive. He had to die. Now. He scurried to the cockpit hallway, turned and ran as fast as he could towards the utility compartment hatch. He put his full weight behind the impact. It nearly worked, but he didn't know. - - - They put him in sick bay immediately. Miraculously, his skull had not cracked from the violent impact when he had tried to kill himself by slamming his head into the steel hatch. But he was unconscious and bleeding and he had a heavy concussion. They had access to a lot of information and before he awoke they knew his whole story. Based on that and what they had seen, they made an unusual decision. - - - It was a testament to the excellent medical facilities on the Explorer that when Ranie regained consciousness, he remembered all that had happened. It was a testament to the acute perception of the crew that they had made sure he was properly restrained when he did. They thought it best that he not live in terror any longer than necessary, and so, when he awoke, an officer came to see him. Ranie peered through heavy eyelids at the woman standing at the foot of the bed. His head felt slightly woolly, and he had some trouble collecting his thoughts. "How do you feel?" the woman asked. He said nothing. They were the enemy. He was not going to make it easy for them. "The med officer says you'll be just fine tomorrow. If you feel disoriented, that is normal. The restraints are put there for your own safety. And don't worry, we're not Imperials." It took him a few seconds to realize what she had said. Not Imperials? He laboriously raised his head from the pillow and screwed his eyes open to get a better look at the woman. Hmm. Curious. That was not the dull black uniform of the Imperial Navy. Nor was it the Federal Military grey. It was a metallic dark blue, and it reminded him of something. Something important. But... He tried to focus, the bright light in the room making painful sparks go off in his head. But those were Federation insignia on her lapel and sleeves. Four golden triangles. He couldn't quite remember what that meant, except that it was pretty high up in the hierarchy. As his head fell back on the pillow the face of a dead Commodore flashed before him. He drew his breath to speak, but his mouth was too dry, forcing him to cough. The woman spoke before he could try again. Unbelievably, her voice sounded friendly. "I am Rear Admiral Geseret, formerly of the Federation. Don't worry, no harm will come to you. Like I said, we're not Imperials. And we know all we need to know about you and your mission. Now just rest. We'll talk again tomorrow." Was she smiling at him? "Sweet dreams, Sergeant Ranie of the Federation." Before he sunk into the darkness he just had time to be surprised at the almost affectionate tone in her voice. His dreams weren't sweet at all; they were littered with dead Commodores. - - - He awoke feeling rested and sharp, and immediately noticed that the restraints had been removed. He still remembered everything. They must have been monitoring him, because thirty seconds later a Colonel in that unusual, blue uniform came into the room. "Ah, you're awake, Sergeant. Excellent." The Colonel stood at the side of the bed and held out a jumpsuit. It was also a shimmering blue. "Would you come with me, please?" Ranie swung his feet out of the bed and stood up, with just the slightest hint of dizziness to be noticed. He took the jumpsuit, pulled it on and followed the Colonel. They marched quickly through narrow and dimly lit corridors, finally halting at a door which bore the symbol of a flag officer. The Colonel opened it and motioned for Ranie to enter first, which he did. It was the quarters of Rear Admiral Geseret. Quite big, Ranie thought. And with a large viewport, through which could be seen the myriad of stars that was their galaxy. Geseret herself was seated behind her office desk and sent him a welcoming smile. She was not alone; two others were sitting in chairs facing the desk. They turned around as he entered. He didn't know what to do; the reflex was to stand to attention and salute, but somehow it didn't feel right. And the two strangers both bore insignia that looked distinctly Imperial. Distrust and apprehension welled up in him. The door shut behind his back. The Rear Admiral waved him closer, almost cheerfully. "Come in, Sergeant. Have a seat. We must talk." He should think so, yes. Boldly he sat in the only empty chair, wedged between the Imperials. He was determined not to let them get the psychological upper hand. With intentional cool he looked the two men up and down, then fixed a quizzical stare at Geseret. She was older than he had first thought. Her dark hair was greying. She was looking mildly at him. "I know you're confused. Hopefully, all will become clear very soon. First of all, this is Earl Pumgis and Count Lihngarte. Don't worry, they are not what you think." Sure they weren't. "I can only imagine how confusing recent events must have seemed to you. We were a bit baffled ourselves, to be honest. But our resources are somewhat more extensive than yours." She leaned back and put her hands on the armrests of the chair. Her mild manner made Ranie relax, just a little bit. "To put it simply, you were set up. By your own people, in fact. Not by the Imperials and not by us. But let us take this in the correct order." She leaned further back, the synthleather of her chair creaking, and gazed up at the ceiling. "You were running highly classified delivery missions for the Federation. Those missions were more important than you probably think, and it actually surprises me that even the Feds recognized your talent and gave you missions on that level of secrecy. Only a handful in Federation Military are trusted with such tasks, you know, and they are all Lieutenant or above. "It's true that you were burned, by the way. Not your fault. Those things just happen. You know how they say that carelessness is the covert operative's worst enemy? Not true. The unlikely coincidence is far worse and will always get you. Sooner or later. In your case sooner. But no matter. "The Feds couldn't use you anymore because the Imps had you figured for a spy and were trailing you. But some Federation Intelligence guy on the rise had an idea. You see, despite what you read in the journals, there is a war on. Between the Feds and the Imps, I mean. A shadow war. With the covert services as the battling armies, always trying to outsmart the other and deal him a blow. Or a sting. It's never really serious, they're basically just keeping each other busy." Her voice had taken on a tinge of contempt. "It's the perfect environment for the sneaky, backstabbing people to make great careers." Absentmindedly, she stroked a lock of hair behind her ear. "Anyway, the idea was this: send you on a fake mission into wild space and let the Imps follow you, thereby tying up a tiny part of their resources. They would trail you into some insignificant system, your target system, where they would capture you and extract from you what you knew. And of course you had been carefully told by the Feds that there were important, newly discovered resources in the system and that there were a bunch of scientists and whatnot. Then, supposedly, the Imperials would send a task force to explore the system and try to find out what was going on. "Thus they would be tying up even more naval and scientific resources on what was just a wild cometchase. If successful, the operation would have absolutely no real effect on the state of affairs between the Feds and the Imps, but it would give the officer in charge recognition in his own community and a fat promotion. And that does not mean you, if you wondered. You would be dead in Imperial custody." Ranie thought for a second, then spoke for the first time since the battle. "But the Federation, not the Empire, attacked me in the target system." "So they did. You see, the plan failed early on. The Imps didn't go for it. Probably smelled a plot. Sometimes they do. "So now you had become, well, not quite a liability, but you were of no use at all. They had a choice: windowseat you or use you for target practice." Again she looked at him with those mild eyes. v "The calculation is quite simple: the price of a Cobra MkIII against the cost of paying you a Sergeants salary for fifty years and a pension for twenty more. The Cobra was cheaper." Ranie slumped in his chair, disbelief and anger making the bottom fall out of his mind. And disappointment beyond his wildest nightmares. They had sold him out, turned him over to Imperial capture and torture. For their own personal gain. The people he had trusted more than anyone. The Admiral, who probably noticed his face clouding over, interrupted his thoughts. "I know you're angry. I am too, at the thought of such betrayal. But the story isn't finished. You were incredibly lucky. Twice. First when you found the escape pod and then when you entered your target system. For you see, that system is not quite ordinary. It is one of the systems we keep a very keen eye on, for reasons that will become apparent to you. Of course, the Feds have no idea about that. They thought it was just another deserted, worthless system. "We were present in the system when at first four Fed ships arrived, and then one more which they attacked. Normally, we'd just sit back and watch the show, but that last Cobra, you, were on a secret frequency emitting a signal which we had for over a year been searching for without success. "It was the personal signal of one of our most honored officers, lost in space while on a crucial mission. He was aboard your ship and we had to save him. We didn't know he was dead, of course. At first, we were too far away to kill your attackers, but you were holding your own like nothing I have ever seen. A Cobra with a pulse laser! You were worth helping for your fighting skills alone. In fact, for a moment I thought you were the Commodore. He was a great warrior also." Her eyes empty, the Rear Admiral gazed out in the air, as if remembering something. She collected herself. "Anyway, fortunately we arrived in time to blast the last attacker. We did not move fast enough to prevent you from attempting suicide, however, for which I am sorry. In our defence, we didn't know we were dealing with that much of a soldier. A most impressive display. Most people in that situation would just accept their fate." She leaned over the desk and peered at him. "But then, you are an unusual person, aren't you, Sergeant Ranie? Why did you go after that escape pod? You knew you were putting your career at risk." "There could have been survivors," Ranie said simply. "So there could. How very true. And how very, very decent." "How come you know all this about my mission and my career? You are not Federals." "All Federation and Empire files are open to us. Always." "Who are you? The Alliance?" "No, we're not the Alliance, although lately several former Alliance officers have taken commissions with us." A smile was playing at her lips. "We like to think that we're above the petty political squabbles of the Federation and the Empire and the Alliance. They take care of their own little territories and we take care of them all. All humankind, in fact." Again the flag officer sat back and looked emptily up to the ceiling. "When human space was invaded by the Thargoids, a few hundred years ago, the Federation and the Empire decided to pool their strength and jointly fight the aliens. For this purpose, they created an organisation which stood above politics and whose only responsibility it was to protect the galaxy from the Thargoids. The organisation had, and still has, unlimited resources at its disposal. In time, the two governments lost control of the organisation, which was then able to include the resources of the Alliance and Independent worlds. Most people think we have been dissolved, when in fact we are now stronger than ever before. And we never betray our own. Ever." The Admiral straightened and looked Ranie right in the eyes, her face and voice now very serious. "A new war is coming, Sergeant. The Thargoids are returning. Already they have outposts in our galaxy, including one in the system where you were attacked. The pod you brought back had in its navicomputer the coordinates of the main Thargoid base in our galaxy. You have impressed us. We need the best to fight the alien menace." The Rear Admiral rose to her feet, as did the two officers beside Ranie. Reflexively, he rose too. The Admiral stretched a hand out to him, across the desk. In her palm, glittering in the starlight, were two golden squares; the insignia of a Major. "Major Ranie, we are INRA. Would you like to join us?" paolo.mariani@spray.no  |
paolo.mariani@spray.no