The Rampant Storm Read online

  Adams interrupted his thoughts. “Excuse me, sir, but Earth Space Control is feeding us some odd data.”

  Pettigrew leaned forward. “Odd? In what way?”

  By now, Lieutenant Commander Sephora “Sunny” Nyondo had stepped onto the bridge, one hand pressed against an earpiece and listening intently. Nyondo had recently been promoted to head the ship’s astrogation department.

  “Ms. Nyondo, are you getting this too?” queried Adams.

  “I am, XO.”

  “Would one of you let me in on what’s going on?” demanded Pettigrew.

  Adams nodded to Nyondo, who had loaded a real-time tactical graphic of the Sol system on the bridge viewscreen. “Sir, Earth Space Control is reporting that quite a few merchant ships in system are deviating from flight plans. Some have executed unscheduled jumps out of the system.” Nyondo highlighted several freighters and miners on the screen. “Twenty standard minutes ago, these ships were all inbound to Gaia Starport. Now they’re all heading toward the outer planets and…” One of the vessels in question disappeared from the screen, leaving a pulsing purple dot marking its last location. “That was the Hesperian freighter Luella jumping.”

  Pettigrew studied the display for a few moments. “It’s a terror wave.”

  “A—a what, sir?” asked Adams.

  Pettigrew turned toward her. “Ever see birds get panicked because they spot a predator? They all fly off together in a flock, splitting and merging, and then they’re gone. Birds are smart animals and so are civilian captains—these people know something we don’t.”

  Pettigrew closed his eyes for a few seconds, thinking. He hoped he was wrong, but he knew deep inside what was about to happen. From the minute construction had started on EarthGate, it had rubbed too many starholds the wrong way. Now one of the governments was about to act, and it didn’t take a genius to predict which one.

  “Commander Adams, summon Mr. Swoboda to the bridge. Nyondo…” Pettigrew pointed an index finger toward the helm controls, motioning for her to take over there. “Commander, have the fleet come to—”

  “Hard contact! Multiple hyperpoints forming nearly two million klicks distant!” cried out Ensign Kuypers from her tactical station. “Twelve, check that, fourteen ships just translated in system. ID confirmed—they’re Gerrhan, sir!”

  “Steady, Ensign, steady,” said Adams, not only trying to calm Kuypers but the entire bridge. “Captain, we have a drone in that area. Incoming imagery.”

  The Tempest computer reconstructed the data flowing from Drone T-94 onto the main bridge viewscreen. A remarkably good picture thought Pettigrew, right down to the red and orange phoenix roundels on the hulls of the Commonwealth ships.

  “Tactical update, sir,” spoke a more composed Kuypers. “Two cruisers, five destroyers, and seven frigates, bearing one-two-zero mark two at approximately one point nine million klicks distant.”

  Pettigrew leaned back in his chair. “As I was saying a moment ago, Commander Adams, have the fleet come to General Quarters.”

  2: Trap

  Koenig Manor

  City of Esterkeep

  Planet Sarissa

  It was very odd being in two places at once. Behind her were her aides and behind them a large window looking out onto the city of Esterkeep, capital of the Sarissan Union. In front of her was a room in the city of Gosina, on the planet Galba. First Consul Renata Darracott was there in holographic form, sitting at a round table with representatives of other starholds. The only real thing in that room light-years away was the table and the projection equipment that brought them all together.

  One of the many scientific advancements the new denizens of Earth had chosen to share with their Renaissance Sector neighbors was called “quantum dispersion resonance.” It was a dream hundreds of years old come to fruition—superluminal transmission, allowing real-time communication across light-years of space. Over the past twenty standard months, millions had been spent in constructing a massive network of faster-than-light relay stations throughout the Sector.

  The annoying time delay of interstellar communications was a thing of the past. Now the aggravation could be found in instant communication, and the Third Starhold Congress was an exercise in frustration unlike anything Renata Darracott had ever experienced. No wonder they haven’t had one of these meetings in over two centuries, thought the Union leader.

  Seated around the table in the form of bits of holographic light were leaders and diplomats from twelve of the sixteen starholds. Most conspicuously absent was any representative from the Jangsu Worlds. Third largest of all the starholds, the Jangsuvians were notoriously isolationistic, but Darracott had still hoped for some type of showing from them, if only a non-participating observer.

  Even without the four absentees, she had gone into the meeting with high hopes, but her optimism evaporated quickly. The Third Congress had started precariously yesterday and was turning downright ugly today. Rants, accusations, threats, pettiness, and jealousy—the best interstellar diplomacy had to offer. The conference host, the Chancellor of the Galbanese Republic, was trying her best to steer the conversation toward productivity, but it was a Herculean task. The Pontian Chancellor was just finishing yet another of his long-winded diatribes.

  “…a violation of the Earth Quarantine Treaty on the part of the Sarissan Union. Moreover, while the so-called Earth Federation government has shared its many technologies, for which we are appreciative, it cannot be overlooked that the self-styled ‘New Earthers’ have chosen to maintain a monopoly on certain military technologies, sharing those only with their Sarissan allies. This has created a dangerous—”

  Enough of this crap. “Madam Chairperson!” Darracott interrupted. “Madam Chairperson, may I ask the representative of the Gerrhan Commonwealth a question?”

  “But First Consul Darracott,” answered the Chair, “it is the Pontian Chancellor who is speaking.”

  “Yes, I understand the Chancellor’s lips are moving, but it’s the Commonwealth that’s speaking,” replied Darracott to the amusement of some of the others.

  Even light-years away, you could see the Pontian leader’s face flush with embarrassment and anger as he started to respond, only to be stayed by the hand of the Gerrhan representative.

  “For two days the leader of the Union has said little,” the Vice-President of the Commonwealth remarked. “I invite her to participate. Ask your question, First Consul.”

  It was true that Darracott had hardly spoken during the initial days of the conference. She wanted to get the ‘lay of the land,’ and now that she had, it wasn’t pretty. Most of the starholds were angry. The Union had made an alliance with the Earth government two years ago to help protect the Blue Planet from conquest by one of the other starholds. In return, the Earthers had supplied Sarissa with advanced military tech, most notably shields for their warships. It was a technology gap that the others resented and feared, especially the Gerrhans.

  “If you will recall, Mr. Vice-President,” Darracott began, “it was the leader of Earth and myself who advocated for this meeting in the first place. We wished to alert the starhold governments of a pending alien threat to humanity.”

  “Yes, yes,” interrupted the Gerrhan, “the Earther tales of aliens, the so-called Adversary, who is ravaging their native universe. Your messages on the matter were quite alarming, if anyone were inclined to take such stories seriously.”

  Darracott pressed on. “I remind you that these people not only crossed dimensions, but time as well—they come from a future timeline. Because of what has happened in the Otherverse, we know the general area of space that the alien Adversary will come from in this universe. We must prepare ourselves. We can take actions now that could possibly save humanity from extinction. We have been given a unique opportunity to unite against an alien threat before it shows itself.”

  The representative of the Tyreni Star Nation stirred. “Unite under whose leadership, First Consul? Yours?”

  “I be
lieve there IS an alien threat, First Consul Darracott,” said the Pontian Chancellor. “But it is not from some remote area of the galaxy in the future. The alien threat we face is your Earther friends—right here, right now!”

  It was Darracott’s turn to redden in anger, which was easy to see on the Odessan’s pale skin. “Is that why the Earth Federation was denied a seat at this Congress? Because of your xenophobia, Chancellor?”

  That caused a stir around the table. The Chairperson banged an old-fashioned gavel and shouted, “Order, order!” An elderly gentleman representing the Olybrian Starhold stood to gain attention and tried to quiet everyone.

  “First Consul,” began the Olybrian, “it is true that many fear the Earthers. We have only their data in regard to this story of a far-off alien threat, and data can be faked. However, at present, their science seems far more menacing than any hypothetical aliens from far off in the future. True, they have shared many things—the FTL communications that make this very conference possible, for example. However, their refusal to share military technology, in particular shields, with anyone but the Sarissan Union is most unsettling.”

  Gods, he almost sounds like a voice of reason. “If these are such important concerns,” said Darracott, “then why has the Earth Federation been barred from attending this conference? Surely, they would be the best people with which to address these issues.”

  The Olybrian delegate seemed distracted for a moment, turned back to the assembled group, excused himself, and then vanished as his holographic transmission was terminated. It had happened several times over the last couple days—even during an inter-starhold meeting, domestic affairs often took precedence and had to be addressed.

  The Gerrhan Vice-President took it upon himself to respond to the Sarissan leader’s question. “The Earthers have not been invited to this conference because their government is illegitimate. The Earth Quarantine Treaty of 2279 prohibits the formation of any government to oversee the homeworld of Humankind.”

  Darracott gave out a small laugh. “But surely, the Treaty could never have anticipated this turn of events. It is the position of the Sarissan Union that because of the extraordinary circumstances, the Earth Quarantine Treaty is null and void.”

  The Gerrhan squirmed in his seat. “Well, it is the position of most of the starholds at this table that the Treaty is still very much in force.” Darracott noticed in the periphery of her vision that a couple of the other conference participants had disappeared from the table. No wonder they’re leaving—we’re boring them to death. “In fact,” the Gerrhan was saying, “It is the position of the Commonwealth that the Sarissan Union has directly violated the Treaty.”

  “How so?” challenged Darracott.

  The Gerrhan grinned, clearly anxious to make his charges. “Firstly, you have recognized this renegade government on Earth. Secondly, and more appallingly, you have conspired with them to construct a hypergate linking Sol with the Union’s home system, Artemis.”

  “That can mean only one thing,” the Pontian Chancellor added. “The Sarissan Union intends to annex Earth! Why else would you build a Gate connection?”

  The Commonwealth VP looked mildly irritated that his Pontian ally had interrupted, but he pressed his denunciation of the Sarissan Union. “Earth belongs to all of humanity—not to the Union and certainly not to interlopers from a different universe, if that is indeed who they even are.”

  There was silence as the First Consul sat glaring at the man. His ally, the Pontian Chancellor, had vanished for the moment. Finally, the quiet was broken by the Galbanese Chancellor.

  “First Consul, another grievance that many starholds have involves the flow of settlers to Earth. Humankind’s population numbers have still not recovered completely from the Diaspora and the environmental collapse of the Blue Planet three centuries ago. Now, many starholds are experiencing a population drain as people leave their worlds and seek to settle on Earth.”

  “Well, people should have the…” She halted, distracted by the conference table. It was down to four participants now—her, the Gerrhan, the Chairperson, and a delegate from Anthedon who looked as if he might be asleep. “As I was saying, people ought to…”

  Suddenly the datatab in front of her chimed and a priority message from her Chief of Staff appeared on it. ‘Leave the meeting—now!’

  “Excuse me,” she said aloud and quickly typed on the pad. ‘What’s going on?’

  She glanced up to notice the Gerrhan Vice-President wearing a smug expression on his face. His look sent a chill up her spine. How did this man ever get elected to any—

  The pad flashed again with another message. ‘Gerrhan war fleet has entered Sol system. You are needed by Central Command.’

  She tried to keep a calm demeanor but was sure that a rush of adrenaline betrayed her. Looking toward the Gerrhan, she now knew what his expression meant. The conference had been nothing more than a diversion, a sham. How many governments were in on it? With how much of the Renaissance Sector was she about to go to war?

  The First Consul searched for something composed and diplomatic to say to the Gerrhan. All she could get out before she disappeared from the table was, “Damn you to hell.”

  3: Encounter

  Union heavy cruiser Tempest

  Sol System

  “They’re jamming our drones,” reported Adams.

  The Commonwealth ships had jumped into the system twenty minutes ago but only just now began their movement toward TF 19—at a surprisingly relaxed pace.

  “If they don’t increase speed, the Gate will be finished before they get here,” quipped Adams.

  Pettigrew wasn’t in the mood for jokes. “What’s the situation with the construction crews?”

  “Emergency evacuations have commenced,” reported the XO. “The first tug is pulling away now. Unless the Gerrhans pick up speed, we have a window of around eighty standard minutes.”

  The captain nodded. “They’ll pick up speed, you can count on it.”

  “No oilers,” remarked Tactical Officer Swoboda, referring to logistical supply vessels. “They must be parked somewhere just outside the system for now.”

  “Or jumped in behind one of the outer gas giants,” offered Nyondo.

  “Captain.” It was Lieutenant Paruzzi at communications. “We have an incoming message for you from the enemy flagship.”

  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Mr. Paruzzi—they’re not our enemy yet. Put it on screen.”

  Paruzzi hesitated. “You may want to take this one on your station console, sir,” advised the lieutenant, looking uncomfortable.

  Pettigrew cocked an eyebrow at the bold and unusual piece of advice from a junior officer. Checking his screen to see what the fuss was about, he quickly understood.

  “No, Mr. Paruzzi, let’s put this on the big screen where everyone can see it.”

  Materializing at the front of the Tempest bridge was a holo-comm image of Brin Choi. Pettigrew looked her straight in the eye but was also aware of the crew reactions around him. Most were professional enough to focus on their jobs—or pretend to focus—until the shock of seeing the most notorious traitor in recent Sarissan history wore off.

  Choi smiled at him, as much of a smile as she ever managed that is. “Captain Pettigrew, it’s good to see you.”

  “I doubt that,” stated Pettigrew, eyeing the epaulettes on her shoulder. “Rear Admiral, huh? I’m surprised they’d give you a commission as an ensign, let alone an admiral,” he said acerbically.

  “I’m not playing that game, Chaz,” she replied. Now, anything resembling a smile had vanished from Choi’s face. “You and I have business, Captain. The Gerrhan Commonwealth has declared the building of a Sarissan Gate in this system a violation of the Earth Quarantine Treaty. I’m here to, shall we say, ‘halt construction.’ I invite your ships to withdraw.”

  Pettigrew said nothing, simply staring at her image on the viewscreen.

  “Trying to stare me down is just s
illy, Chaz—I thought I taught you better than that. Withdraw or we will be forced to engage your force. I’ll have your answer, Captain.”

  The bridge crew knew he wasn’t going to order a retreat, but they were anxious nonetheless. Elbows on the arms of his chair, Pettigrew brought his large hands upward, interlocking his fingers. His ebony skin masked whether he was flushed from anger. The crew certainly knew he wasn’t afraid, but he was taking an uncomfortably long time to respond.

  “Ship,” he said finally, addressing the Tempest’s computer. “Somewhere in your database, there should be a warrant for the arrest of one Brin Choi. Would you please locate it and transmit it to the Gerrhan flagship.”

  “Affirmative, Captain,” answered the computer personification of Tempest in its familiar female voice. “Transmission complete.”

  Choi scowled. “There’s going to be a lot of unnecessary dying here today, Pettigrew. Let it be on your head.”

  Pettigrew curled one corner of his mouth upward. “It’s just that I don’t care for your new uniform, ma’am. I think you’ll look much better in prison attire.”

  Choi cursed under her breath, and the viewscreen picture cut out. The tension on the bridge broke, with some of the crew applauding and cheering the captain.

  Pettigrew stood. “All right everyone, the show’s over,” he said with only a slight reprimand. “Commander Adams, my guess is that they will increase speed now.”

  Adams nodded from her station. “As you speak, sir, but not by as much as you would think. Enemy ETA to EarthGate is still approximately forty-five minutes.”

  Pettigrew stepped forward to the stations of Swoboda and Nyondo, who sat next to each other. The two of them had been conducting a quiet conversation during his bit of drama with Choi.

  “You two are onto something—would you like to share?”

  The pair glanced at each other, looking like schoolchildren caught doing something wrong in the classroom. Commander Swoboda smiled at Nyondo and extended his hand in an ‘after you’ gesture.