In Earth's Service (Mapped Space Book 2) (8 page)

Jase checked his sensors and shook his head. “We’re
all alone.”

“I’m detecting a powerful magnetic field a
thousand meters to starboard,” Izin said, “and a friction avoidance shockwave
from the same area.”

Izin routinely monitored ambient influences we
didn’t, especially anything that could interfere with energy and propulsion
systems. If he was picking up a pressure wave, something had to be generating
it, something our navigational sensors couldn’t see.

Jase double checked his command console while I angled
our optics to starboard, filling our screen with nothing but clear blue sky.

“Zero neutrino emissions,” Jase said, confirming
if there was a ship out there, it wasn’t running on reactive energy. That meant
they’d progressed beyond nuclear physics as a power source, putting them way up
there with the Tau Cetins!

“It began following us as soon as we launched,”
Izin said.

“Maybe they’re just curious,” Jase suggested,
knowing advanced civilizations sometimes buzzed human ships without contacting
them just to have a look at tech they’d abandoned long ago, but those were
always chance encounters at deep space nav points. This was different. We were
inside a planetary atmosphere far from any choke point. Whoever they were,
they’d come looking for us.

“Izin, give me a marker,” I said.

A contact icon appeared on the flight deck’s wraparound
screen, indicating the anomaly’s position as we continued to climb.

“Time to say hello,” I said, deciding to let them
know we weren’t as blind as they thought. I rolled the
Lining
sharply,
threw hard g’s at our internal acceleration field as I opened up the engines
and headed straight for the invisible contact.

Jase braced, startled. “Skipper!”

The contact marker flashed off to the side of the
screen with a burst of super acceleration, easily avoiding us. “That’s what I
was afraid of.”

“What?”

“They’re too fast to ram.”

Jase looked at me like I’d lost my mind. “I’m glad
of that!”

“Izin, are they still matching us?”

“Yes, Captain, same distance, same aspect as
before.”

I nosed the
Lining
up, putting her back on
course for our bubble out point. “Enough games.” Whoever they were, we couldn’t
catch them or stop them following us. I figured they’d let us know what they
wanted when they were ready to talk.

We continued climbing out of the atmosphere,
pursued by our invisible shadow, then three new contacts appeared beyond
minimum safe distance.

“There they are!” Jase said as their signatures
appeared on screen. “No transponders!”

They couldn’t be Earth Navy or UniPol, both of
whom broadcast who they were to ensure law abiding ships heaved to when ordered
to do so.

“Let’s see them,” I said, angling our trajectory
away from the new contacts.

Jase refocused our optics, putting the three
incoming ships on screen. They were chevron shaped vessels, painted in
elaborate red and orange livery, each individually larger than the Rashidun
escorts.

“Shivas?” Jase said surprised.

They were the Rashidun’s main rivals, a Republic
syndicate who objected to the success of the floating black market. They would
have seen us the moment we saw them, but they made no move toward us. Instead,
the three Shiva gunships headed for geostationary orbit above the trading post.
As the distance between us widened, I relaxed, certain they were going to let
us escape unmolested.

“So now what?” Jase asked.

“We find out what’s in the bottle.” He’d caught a
glimpse of it when I’d returned, as mystified by it as I was.

“How are we going do that?”

“Ask the alien-tech experts?” I said, entering our
destination into the autonav.

When Jase saw where we were headed, he gave me an
incredulous look. “They’ll never let us in!”

I grinned knowingly. If a lowly human trader had
been doing the asking, he’d have been right, but an Earth Ambassador was a
different matter.

Just before we bubbled, the three Shiva raiders
began bombarding the surface from orbit. Jasim Hajjar and his people would
already be safely in their shelter, riding out each earthquake sized blast far
below the surface. When they emerged in a few weeks, they’d find all that
remained of Kedira Town would be a field of steaming craters. In six months,
another Kedira would exist close to the remains of the first, ready for the
next Souk.

It was the Rashidun way.

Restricted System – Non-Communication
Class

Pelani System, Outer Ursa Minor

0.89 Earth Normal Gravity

904 light years from Sol

Tau Cetins

The
Silver Lining
exited
superluminal flight at the edge of the Pelani System’s heliopause, the outer edge
of the system’s physical and legal boundaries. Our sensors extended into space as
bubble heat rapidly bled from the hull, then Pelani’s tiny yellow orb appeared
in the center of the flight deck’s wraparound screen. A single circular marker
indicated the location of the only planet in the system, while concentric rings
of indicators identified the locations of thousands of artificial objects
orbiting the star. It was a view few human eyes had ever seen, because only our
diplomatic ships ever approached restricted systems. Like most Forum members in
contact with mankind, the Tau Cetins refused to allow us open access to their
inhabited worlds while our probationary status remained.

“There’s only one terrestrial planet orbiting a
hundred and forty million clicks out,” Jase said as he studied the sensor data.
“No moons, no asteroids, no gas giants, but lots of optical contacts, none of
them natural. And the only neutrinos are from the star.”

No surprises there. The TCs had moved beyond
reactive energy sources long before
Homo sapiens
’ distant ancestors had
begun roaming the plains of Africa.

“Just your run of the mill Tau Cetin system,” I assured
him, knowing from my diplomatic training that all TC systems we’d visited looked
like this.

The Pelani System was no mere colony. It had been
transformed long ago into a fully developed home for the Tau Cetin Civilization,
following a pattern they’d developed over millions of years. The TCs didn’t
terraform single planets, they reengineered entire systems to support their way
of life. In a real sense, they had home systems rather than home worlds.

The solitary planet was called Ansara, a blue-green
orb devoid of natural satellites with an engineered biosphere ideal for avian life.
Once, other planets and moons had orbited Pelani, along with billions of pieces
of rock and ice circling far out into the frigid depths of interstellar space,
but no more. Now nothing larger than a grain of sand remained within a light
year of Ansara’s yellow sun. In their place, precisely positioned in concentric
orbital rings beyond the planet were thousands of silver hexagonal prisms: two
equal flat sides connected by six square surfaces. Each prism was hundreds of
kilometers across with a circular hole at its center for ship docking. They’d
been constructed from Pelani’s now vanished planets and moons and from material
drawn from nearby star systems. Some orbitals floated alone, others were mated
side to side forming massive honeycombs in space or were joined end to end
creating long multi-segmented super prisms. It was a simple, infinitely
expandable design that had served the Tau Cetins for eons.

The silver prisms were the productive base of the
Tau Cetin Civilization in this part of the galaxy, synthesizing everything they
required with automated efficiency. A handful of human ambassadors had toured
similar creations in the Tau Ceti system itself, the epitome of the model
followed by the Pelani System, only on a vastly larger scale.

“Three thousand, four hundred and sixty one orbitals,”
Jase said impressed, “and over eighty seven thousand high velocity visual contacts.”

“That we can see,” I added, certain their system
defenses were invisible to our sensors.

A powerful signal suddenly blanketed the
Silver
Lining’s
comm system. There was no image, just a terse audio message that
blared from the speakers.

“Access Treaty provisions governing probationary
species prohibit entry to inhabited systems class two and above. As no
exemption has been provided, you are required to withdraw immediately. Failure
to do so will result in relocation of your ship to the nearest human system and
a formal protest being lodged with your government.”

“Not very friendly, are they?” Jase said.

“They’re not friends or enemies. They’re Observers.”

Observers were the arbiters of interstellar law,
the supreme representatives of the Galactic Forum and the greatest
technological and military powers in the Galaxy. They were meant to be
impartial in all matters, although sometimes I wondered if the Tau Cetins
didn’t bend the rules just a little when it suited their interests. And with Earth
only twelve light years from Tau Ceti itself, the TCs had more of an interest
in us than if we’d been at the other end of the Orion Arm and we had no option
other than to seek good relations with them. Proximity to such a powerful civilization
made some nervous, but there were undeniable advantages in progressing from the
stone age to the stars under the watchful, generally benevolent gaze of a
galactic superpower.

“They’re half a click above us,” Jase said,
orienting our optics toward them.

A sleek, silver dart appeared floating in perfect
synchronization over the
Silver Lining
. It was small by their standards,
hull polished to a mirror sheen with no visible sign of weapons or shields, but
that meant nothing. Whatever armament it carried would be formidable, making
this a very short conversation if I couldn’t convince them to change their
minds.

I switched off the ship’s intercom. It was
normally open so Izin knew what was happening on the flight deck, but any
electrical signal would be easily read by the Tau Cetins. “Go tell Izin to stay
in his stateroom. He’s not to use the intercom or anything electromagnetic.”

“Right!” Jase said, sliding off his acceleration
couch.

Izin’s ancestors had attacked the Tau Ceti System over
two thousand years ago. If there was one species the TCs had cause to dislike,
it was the aggressive and ultra-advanced Intruders – although that wasn't why
I was ordering Jase off the bridge. Trying to hide Izin’s presence from the Tau
Cetins was pointless, as they would already know everything about us. What I wanted
was to talk to them in private.

When Jase was gone, I transmitted a tight signal
at the patrol ship. “I request diplomatic entry to Ansara. My recognition code is
as follows…” I said, then recited an ambassadorial code from the vast array of
security clearances stored within my bionetic memory.

The perimeter guard’s response was immediate. “Ansara
does not accept interspecies envoys. Diplomatic contacts can only be made through
the Tau Ceti System.”

“I understand, but this is an emergency. If I have
to go to Tau Ceti, it’ll take eight months to get there in this ship. I need
help now. Today. It’s an Access Treaty matter.”

“What is your emergency?”

At least he was prepared to talk, which meant he
could grant exceptions.

“I’m investigating a possible Treaty violation for
Earth Council. I request Tau Cetin technical assistance to help me assess the
scope of the potential breach.”

“Access Treaty matters are the responsibility of
the Observer Executive in the Tau Ceti System.”

“In that case, I request a full exemption for any Treaty
violations that occur in relation to this matter while I spend the next eight
months going to Tau Ceti.”

I threw that last bit in to tweak his beak,
knowing the Tau Cetins would never provide mankind with a get out of jail free card
– I wasn’t even sure they could do such a thing – but they also couldn’t ignore
that I was trying to meet our obligations within the limits of human
technological capabilities. It was a sneaky way of roping them in and they’d
know it, but they’d have to swallow it because Observers never ducked their
responsibilities.

The perimeter guard fell silent, presumably communicating
with his masters on Ansara even though the planet was many light hours away. After
several minutes, he said, “Temporary diplomatic entry is granted pending assessment
of your request.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you. What
flight path should I follow to Ansara?”

“None. Your ship’s spacetime distortion drive will
not function inside the Pelani System.”

No bubble? “Why not?”

“Ansara is protected by a system wide suppression
field. We will move your ship to the planet, Ambassador. Standby.”

Confirmation that the TCs had a means of
collapsing spacetime bubbles on a system wide basis was a tantalizing piece of
intel, even if it would be a very long time before we could replicate such
technology. That wouldn’t stop the EIS assembling a team to try to figure out
how they did it.

The flight deck’s wraparound screen distorted to
white noise momentarily, then a garden world appeared below us. It looked the
way Earth must have tens of thousands of years ago, before mankind had begun transforming
its surface. Ansara’s four continents were covered in temperate and tropical forests,
vast islands of green surrounded by pristine blue oceans. White capped mountain
ranges dissected two of the land masses, although there was a peculiar absence
of barren regions. More strangely, there were no cities, no farmlands, no
pollution, none of the indicators of civilization.

From high orbit, Ansara appeared to be a perfectly
preserved natural environment – the opposite of what might be expected from the
beating heart of an interstellar superpower. If I hadn’t known better I’d have
been surprised, but I’d read enough diplomatic reports describing their ancient
origin world in the Tau Ceti system to know this was a close copy. To the Tau
Cetins, planets were places where they lived according to their avian tastes,
not places to spoil with cities and pollution.

The flight deck speakers sounded with the same
synthesized voice that had greeted us at the Pelani heliopause. “Do not engage
your reaction engines. Another ship is coming to transport you to the surface.”

I swiveled the optics looking for the patrol ship,
but it had already vanished. Instead, streaks of light flashed across the
screen as TC craft went about their business, travelling at incredible
velocities so close to a planetary mass. With their vehicles too fast to study,
I focused on Ansara where millions of tiny, equally spaced gray dots were
suspended above the endless expanses of green. Before I could investigate
further, the screen filled with white noise again.

The
Silver Lining’s
landing struts extended
without me touching the controls, then the screen came back to life. We now sat
on a circular gray platform high above a mist shrouded forest. It was one of
the tiny gray dots I’d glimpsed from orbit, identical to thousands of others
stretching as far as the eye could see. The platforms stood on thin, pole-like
towers that rose through the trees to exactly the same height.

“Skipper,” Jase said over the intercom, “the
energy plant just shut down. One moment it was fine, next it was stone cold
dead, like it had the life sucked right out of it.”

No power, but the lights were still on? According
to my console, life support, sensors and a thousand and one invisible machines
that kept the ship going were all still functioning normally. Only weapons,
propulsion and the E-plant were down. Somehow, they were feeding us juice even
though there were no umbilicals attached.

I couldn’t blame them for taking precautions. Human
religious fanatics had detonated their ship’s energy plant on the Mataron
homeworld in 3154, triggering a thousand year suspension of mankind’s
interstellar access rights and turning the Matarons into our enemies – a big
mistake considering the snakehead’s xenophobic culture flourished when they had
someone to hate. The Embargo had caused some human colonies to collapse, others
to regress and had fractured Human Civilization for a millennium.

“They’re just playing it safe,” I said, slipping
off my acceleration couch. “Stand watch up here while I go talk to our avian
friends.”

“On my way.”

I headed for the hidden smuggler compartment
amidships, passing Jase in the main corridor.

“How’d you talk them into letting us land?” he
asked.

“They couldn’t resist my charm and good looks.”

“Now I know you’re lying,” Jase said, continuing
on to the flight deck.

After retrieving the alien-tech canister, I headed
down to the cargo hold’s belly door. Once outside the ship, I found the landing
platform was shielded from high altitude winds by invisible pressure fields. Just
as I began wondering how I was supposed to get down, a synthesized voice
sounded from the center of the platform.

“Remain where you are. A liaison is being
synthesized.”

Unsure how long I had to wait, I paced the
platform, peering over the edge. A thick forest canopy obscured the ground
below, while a tremendous variety of birds soared above the trees. If not for
the landing platforms visible in all directions, Ansara would have appeared to
be uninhabited.

A slender, highly reflective craft soon flashed
down out of the sky, seemingly coming to an instantaneous stop as it landed. There
was no sign of thrusters or exterior sensors or even an airlock, but moments
after it touched down, an oval opening dilated in the hull and a beautiful, human
female emerged. She had blue eyes, dark hair and perfect features, definitely not
what I was expecting. I glanced back at the
Lining
, knowing Jase was cursing
that he was stuck up on the flight deck instead of down here with me.

She approached me and smiled. “Ambassador Kade, I
am your liaison while you are on Ansara,” she said, offering her hand.

“I wasn’t aware there were human diplomats on
Ansara,” I said, finding her touch warm and soft.

“There aren’t,” she replied in a cultured
Unionspeak accent.