MU-variant Notes

[Lorpius Prime]

Backstory notes from the story inspired by MU. A work in progress

Titles

Tentative Titles for a six-volume series:

I. Fire From The Heavens

SPOILER: Click to show

Pascual squeezed his fists in anger.

"There is nothing either of us can do," Hyong said without looking at him. "I have enjoyed the company of Humans because I thought you were more like me than the majority of my own people." The Bat raised a claw to tap the image of drifting wreckage on the monitor, "How foolish of me."

II. Only Hope Remained

III. The Gods Played Dice

SPOILER: Click to show

Everyone in the crisis room stood completely still. No one moved, no one spoke. Computers beeped alerts, but no one attempted to answer them. Pascual could feel all of their eyes upon him. His toes twitched. How fast could he run? Probably not fast enough.

That dreadful silence ended when the heavy blast door leading out into the lobby was blown off of its hinges and landed several feet into the conference room. Bernardo Durante dove under the conference table, but Pascual, Willy, and most of the Earth Fleet personnel just turned to stare at the smoking doorway in shock.

A platoon of EPS men in black combat gear poured through the doorway, weapons at their shoulders. Pascual could hear gunfire in the halls behind them. The troopers ran inside and made a ring around the two Councilors and Pascual, some of them leaping onto the conference table to do so. They kept their weapons trained outwards.

"Any of you fuckers so much as blinks and your heads are hamburger," one of the troopers growled. He turned his head just enough to let Pascual see the side of his face. "Are you all right, sirs?"

IV. Canon of the Gods

SPOILER: Click to show

"That's not why I'm frightened…" Redundancy 21 buzzed. His synthesizer fell silent for a moment, and then, " We haven't received any supply ships or any messages for several weeks now. Even when the Teachers were here, we still got our experiment updates and instructions. There is nothing more important than the Quest: it has to continue no matter what. But now everything has stopped. None of the Exohosts respond, and we don't know why."

V. The Property Of The Dead

SPOILER: Click to show

"God's blessing upon you both," Hasan said. He smiled to see the way the man looked at his wife, then tightened his grip on the hand bar as the shuttle accelerated in a new direction. He said a small prayer in his mind, hoping desperately that the enemy was not upon them. He could see the same fear on the young woman's face. "Have you thought of a name?" he asked. Perhaps he could provide some comfort in distraction.

The couple looked at each other for just a second, and the woman smiled. "We thought we'd name him Timothy," she said.

VI. The Heavens Turned to Ash

SPOILER: Click to show

From the Book of Crusades:

The War in Heaven continued, and it frightened Man. In the twenty-seventh year of his reign, King Thoman ordered that ships be sent out from Garden to gather news of the war. Captain Rayam's ship found a host of Angels reducing a demonic fortress in the land of Bear's Eye. The Angels told them that the LORD was angry. The Kings of Man had fallen under the sway of demons, and the LORD had condemned Garden to the frosts of Hell. When they heard this, Rayam's men threw themselves at the Angels' feet to profess their ignorance and beg salvation. The Angels took Rayam's ship and ordered him to sail it to new lands beyond the boundaries of Heaven.

Timeline



2027- Straits War: nuclear war between the USA and PRC devastates much of East Asia and Western North America.
2045- Bats arrive in Solar System, begin colonization of Jovian moons.
2046- First contact between Bats and Earth. NASA astronauts aboard Bat frigate. Bat diplomatic mission in Washington, DC.
2048- Charterling colonization mission arrives in Solar System with warship escort and begins settlement on Jovian moons. Fighting between Bats and Charterlings.
2049- Bats withdraw to Titan and Saturn area. Earth begins construction of first Space Elevator near Quito.
2050- Signing of the Montevideo Space Accords and establishment of Earth Fleet.
2051- Organization of Earth States is established by the G20 nations and assumes political control of Earth Fleet from the UNSC. Caspian War. Russia withdraws from Earth Fleet. USA accedes to the OES.
2052- EU accedes to the OES.
2053- Kyhyex battle-fleet arrives escorting more Bat colonists and inflicts significant damage on Charterling colony before departing.
2054- Bat diplomatic mission relocated to OES capital in Caracas.
2057- Kyhyex colonization mission arrives in Solar System and begins settlement of Jovian moons. Start of ongoing conflict between Charterling and Kyhyex colonies.
2058- Earth receives first message from Tharn exohost on Mercury.
2059- Quito Space Elevator completed. Ongoing construction on further elevators, including Singapore and Kampala. OES diplomatic overtures to Tharn are rebuffed. Human settlement of Luna begins.
2060- Charterling diplomatic mission in Moscow.
2061- Earth Fleet base on Mars. ESA MerCAR Probe of Mercury unable to locate Tharn settlement. Contact lost with MerCAR 12 days after arrival.
2062- Earth Fleet expedition to Mercury unable to locate Tharn settlement or MerCAR probe. OES receives Tharn request to cease further expeditions to Mercury. OES protests are ignored.
2063- Permanent Earth Fleet outpost at Venus.
2064- Battle of the Alinda Gap: Charterling asteroid survey vessels engage an Earth Fleet patrol and are destroyed. Kampala Space Elevator completed.
2065- Second Battle of the Alinda Gap: A Charterling sloop engages and destroys 2 Earth Fleet cruisers and the outpost at 4 Vesta. Russian government expels the Charterling diplomatic mission.
2066- Construction begins on second-generation Earth Fleet warships. Singapore Space Elevator completed.
2069- Ceres Incident: Earth Fleet cruiser destroys a Kyhyex transport making an unauthorized approach of Ceres. Russia accedes to OES and rejoins Earth Fleet.
2070- TadPole colonization ship arrives in Solar System and establishes colony on Titania.
2071- Construction begins on third-generation Earth Fleet warships. Mexican President Eduard Molinas appointed Chief Executive of the OES despite allegations of bribery and extortion.
2073- TadPole courier ship reaches Luna.


Races

Tharn
Territory- Mercury ("Exohost 227") and surrounds, especially a Sol-ward corridor.
Bio- A pure Tharn bears a striking structural resemblance to the green anoles of Earth, but a typical individual masses one and a half times the mass of the average human. However, nearly all Tharn are augmented with mechanical and electronic implants, ranging in function from simple elbow supports allowing manipulation by foreclaws to cranial implants extending brain function.
Tech-
Interstellar Drive- Rotation into a non-standard spatial dimension, about which the standard dimensions are tightly wrapped. Tharn then use standard propulsion to cross otherwise vast differences. Access to this fourth dimension forms a basis for much of Tharn technology and construction as well. Tharn are familiar with warp drive but have abandoned its use as their access to a higher spatial dimension allows them to achieve faster apparent speeds (on average, the advantage depends on spatial geometry and tends to diminish across shorter distances) and the use of a warp field while accessing the higher dimension can have disastrous consequences (most notably the destruction of the Tharn homeworld).

Human
Territory- The Human Expanse consists of a strong presence in Earth system and asteroid belt, outposts at Mars, uncontested claim to Venus backed by small orbital outposts and irregular military presence.
Bio- They’re humans.
Tech-
Interstellar Drive- None. Standard reaction and ion drives for propulsion.

Charterlings (*UK*)
Territory- Jupiter and surrounds, centered on Ganymede, with outposts in the asteroid belt. Conflict with Kyhyex over Jupiter territory in general and Io in particular, and conflict with Kyhyex and Humanity in the asteroid belt.
Bio- Silicon-based life-form with some vague resemblance to Earth arthropods, mostly an abundance of stiff and jointed limbs. They reproduce sexually, and while their offspring are numerous, young are rapidly culled by adults; resulting in an effective birth rate lower than the human average. This is offset somewhat by relatively lengthy life spans, but the final result is the sentient species with the slowest population growth in the solar system. Their most remarkable feature is their natural ability to produce nano-scale fibers in a manner conceptually similar to the creation of spiders' web. These materials are extremely versatile with applications ranging from energy production to construction material. They have adapted this mechanism into an industrial-scale process which is at the heart of their race's tremendous wealth. However, the process consumes large amounts of sulfur (and lithium, magnesium, and a variety of other poorly-distributed chemicals), which has drawn them into a variety of resource-based conflicts, especially with Kyhyex and (*Portugal*), even while these empires are among the largest consumers of their products. The Charterlings are employees of the Royal Sol Company, chartered directly by the ruler of their empire, which is simply called The Kingdom. They do not seem to have a name for their species as a whole, nor is the name of their rulers' dynasty much help for applying a label to their state. As the Bat Ambassador to Earth said: "Their King's name is *click*."
Tech-
Interstellar Drive- Warp Drive. Smaller industrial base favors leaner, quicker ships, but compensated with slightly better technology than Kyhyex.

Kyhyex (*Spain*)
Territory- Jupiter and surrounds, centered on Callisto, with outposts in the asteroid belt. Conflicts with the Charterlings over Jupiter territory in general and Io in particular, and conflict with the Charterlings and Humanity in the asteroid belt.
Bio- Appear externally as largely amorphous masses. Kyhyex are autotrophs which require large amounts of sulfur to survive (possibly sulfur-reducers consuming sulfur and hydrogen for energy). They reproduce asexually through division (though it is a conscious and voluntary process), with the primary limiting factor on their population simply being the availability of resources. The Kyhyex do not communicate verbally among themselves and must use machine assistance to produce alien languages. As a result, after several Alien Culture advocacy groups began a PR campaign to avoid a repeat of the "Earth-centric and insensitive" naming convention which was applied to the Bats themselves, Human officials adopted the Bat name for the Kyhyex race. It was only several months later that OES linguists observed that the Bat word "kyhyex" translates approximately as "blobs".
Tech-
Interstellar Drive- Warp Drive. Larger, more extensive industrial base encourages the construction of much larger ships in the fleet, although they are fewer and probably less well-equipped than Charterling ships.


Bats (*France*)
Territory- Saturn and surrounds, centered on Titan. Significant trade outposts in direction of human expanse. Limited connections to home territories because of necessity of travel through opposing species’ zones of control.
Bio- Superficial resemblance to the bats of Earth. Thin leathery wings allow flight in suitable conditions (low gravity, dense atmosphere, etc).
Tech-
Interstellar Drive- Warp drive. Most efficient drive of any species in the Sol system, but this advantage is offset by the Bats’ greater distance from the heart of their empire.

TadPoles (*Denmark*)
Territory- Uranus and surrounds, centered on Titania. Very new, struggling colony.
Bio- Pair of mutually beneficial symbiotes. Tads are a tough and heavy species of macro-organisms vaguely humanoid in appearance (2 legs, 3 arms, thick mineral-based hide) who reproduce sexually. Poles are a sort of fungus which grows on the bodies of the Tads, and which process atmosphere and produce enough surplus nutrients for their hosts, allowing the Tads to go long periods of time without consuming food. Pole colonies form a distributed intelligence significantly brighter than Tad individuals. But they rely on the Tads for most of their interactions with the outside world, including physical manipulation and speech. Their name is based on the appearance of the Tads’ heads and the spinal ridges produced by Pole colonies.
Tech-
Interstellar Drive- Crude Warp Drive based on Charterling designs, but much less efficient because of the TadPoles’ limitations in computer technology and engineering capabilities.


(*Portugal*)
Territory- None in solar system. Extrasolar empire is reportedly larger than all other groups present in solar system (with possible exception of Tharn).
Bio- Identical to Kyhyex, independent empire of the same species.
Tech-
Interstellar Drive- Warp Drive. Have also developed a (possibly related) technology used for the creation of so-called "Warp Gates". Gate construction is apparently an enormous engineering undertaking requiring an expensive investment of energy and material, but the devices are almost always worth the effort as they allow near-instantaneous transport across interstellar distances at a fraction of the energy cost of Warp Drive. (*Portugal*) jealously guards the technology behind these devices, and about all any other nation knows is that they must be constructed at fixed distances from stellar-scale objects (variable depending upon mass), and that they do not function in star systems with a Tharn presence.




Earth

Organization of Earth States (OES)

The OES was a product of the 2051 meeting in Dar es Salaam of the G20 developing nations. The Montevideo Space Accords which established Earth Fleet were less than a year old and the organization was already struggling due to a lack of effective leadership from the UN Security Council. As the G20 nations were already the source of the bulk of Earth Fleet's production and launch capacity, most of its manpower, and a significant portion of its funding, the suggestion by an Indian representative that the countries present could create a streamlined organization to manage Earth Fleet and represent Humanity in negotiations with Alien powers quickly grew into serious discussions and working proposals. By the time the extended meeting had finished, it had morphed into a constitutional convention that produced the OES charter, which was immediately ratified by most of the contributing nation-states. Hastily assembled in Durban, South Africa (the OES would later establish permanent headquarters in Caracas) the Executive Council simply declared that it was assuming control of Earth Fleet, and the declaration was followed immediately by the Fleet's Chilean commander's validation and acceptance. While most of the United Nations members which had not participated in these events reluctantly accepted them and began taking steps to join the OES themselves, the Russian Federation vehemently opposed the transfer of power. The Russian military was put on alert and Russian space forces which had only just been integrated into Earth Fleet refused to follow orders from Fleet superiors. After several weeks of stand-off, Russia attempted a military strike against the fledgling OES bureaucracy in Durban. The attack was thwarted and Earth Fleet and US Air Force units retaliated by destroying most of Russia's petroleum extraction infrastructure in the Caspian Sea region as well as inflicting significant damage on the Baikonur Cosmodrome. Afterwards, the Russian Federation agreed to a cease fire, but it withdrew from the Montevideo Space Accords and would not join the OES for almost two decades, becoming the last significant Earth nation to do so.

The OES was designed to be an effective and decisive governing body for Earth Fleet and representative of Humanity abroad. It was not, however, designed to be a particularly fair or democratic organization, and its numerous deficiencies in these regards have already led to widespread complaints of illegitimacy, attenuated mostly by the limited scope of its authority. The OES is comprised of two primary governing bodies, the Executive Council and the General Assembly. Most of the actual authority resides in the Executive Council, which is a permanent establishment consisting of the Chief Executive and the heads of the bureaucracies (primarily Earth Fleet and the Diplomatic Corps) who serve as advisors and ministers. Although there is no official prescription to the effect, the Chief Executive has traditionally been the Head of Government of one of the OES member states. The General Assembly meets only occasionally and consists of delegates selected by the governments of the OES' constituent members (all nation-states except for the European Union, which acceded as a bloc). The General Assembly appoints the Chief Executive for five-year terms (which are unlimited but may not be served consecutively) and approves his appointments to the rest of the Executive Council. The General Assembly also has the power to alter the OES charter, although any changes must be ratified unanimously by the members and this has never been done. Constituent members may send an unlimited amount of delegates to General Assembly meetings (although more than 5 per member would be difficult due to seating constraints in the Assembly building, and more than 1 is historically unusual), but delegates must vote as a bloc and each member's vote is weighted roughly in proportion to the size of their population. However, the original charter is extremely vague about the applicable formula (which refers to "legally resident citizens meeting appropriate qualifications to vote"), and the Executive Department responsible for setting the standards by which voting weights are determined is notorious for fudging the numbers. Indeed, many believe the newest Chief Executive, Mexico's President Molinas, achieved that position by packing the Electoral Commission with allies and then threatening his opposition with reduced influence.


United States

By 2073 the United States is still, by many measures, the wealthiest and most advanced nation on Earth. But it has long since ceased to be the most powerful and significant force in Earth politics as it was at the start of the 21st century. Several decades of decline culminated in the Straits War with China, and while the USA was the clearly victor after obliterating its opponent, the damage it received in return is widely perceived as what caused the final demise of the United States as the world's superpower. With an already strained treasury the federal government simply could not cope with the costs of repairing the devastation to its western territories and in 2033 the USA defaulted on its debts for the first time in the nation's history. Strangely, while the government found its credit ruined and effectiveness sorely reduced, the impact on the American population was disproportionately small after six years of coping with reduced support from the government resulted in reduced dependency. Americans have since sorted into two distinctly separate populations and the United States has developed two divergent economies. An investment class of "capitalists" occupies the top income segments of the American population. These individuals, some several hundred thousand Americans mostly living in metropoles along the nation's east coast, have very little direct involvement with the United States' economy or society beyond living within its borders. They are recruited from the rest of the population to manage enormous investment funds and holding companies, the majority of whose capital is funneled into foreign business ventures, such as the tremendously profitable space elevators. This investment class wields tremendous influence over the US federal government, but is content to stay out of the nations' affairs, except to ensure that the nation stays out of their own affairs and pocketbooks. Instead, the national government tends to the business of governing the rest of the population. The remaining 95% or so of Americans live in what is for all intents and purposes a middle-income country with an economy based primarily on light manufacturing and a low-end service sector. Yet for all its loss of a cohesive society, the United States still leads the world in many prestigious fields, even if mostly because of institutional inertia rather than raw power. The US armed forces remain the most powerful in the world, though their top-of-the-line hardware is now leased from leading military corporations for a period of years before being sold on to lesser powers and replaced. The US collegiate system remains the best in the world, though its top schools now have more foreign students whose attendance is paid by their home countries than Americans in attendance. And NASA never ceased to operate even while the federal budget was imploding. It is worth noting that NASA astronauts (operating from the much-patched and last-of-its-kind Space Shuttle Discovery) were the first to encounter an Alien spacecraft when the first Bat frigate to make contact with Humanity entered orbit and invited the crew aboard (the Bat crew declined the invitation to make a reciprocal visit to Discovery).


Russia

The Russian Federation is the last surviving member of the old "Big Five" nations which can still be considered a world power in its own right. After the Straits War devastated the United States and removed China from the global political equation entirely, Russia enjoyed a period of ascendancy in world affairs. For almost two decades during the 2030s and 2040s, Russia's influence was unmatched and much of the reputation and domestic strength which it had lost since the fall of the USSR was restored. A succession of strong Russian presidents were able to run the table at the UN Security Council, browbeating their reluctant and humbled counterparts into authorizing an ambitious expansion of peacekeeping operations, often led by newly emboldened Russian military units. These operations included the massive military intervention (at the time many called it an invasion) in Southeast Asia which put to an abrupt end the chaotic conflicts which were emerging in the wake of nuclear devastation. It was in this climate of renewed Russian prestige and glory that a series of sudden humiliations left the country and its people withdrawn and embittered. Already in 2046, Russians felt somewhat slighted when it was the Americans to whom fell the honor of first contact with Alien life, despite the ancient and decaying state of the American space program. Had the Bats arrived just a few weeks earlier or later, their first diplomatic mission to Earth would almost certainly have been established in Moscow rather than Washington. But this embarrassment paled in comparison to the events of 2051. Although Russia had been one of the driving forces behind the drafting of the Montevideo Space Accords and a primary contributor of equipment and personnel to the Earth Fleet (the first units of which were weaponized Russian spacecraft), the new Organization of Earth States was designed and declared without any Russian input at all. The Russian government viewed the OES' attempt to assume control over Earth Fleet from the UNSC as nothing short of a military coup. But when Russia attempted to put a stop to the illegitimate claims, the country was betrayed by its own Security Council allies when much of the Caspian Sea infrastructure (which was then at the heart of most of Russian industry) was destroyed by orbital strikes and aerial bombardment. Furious, Russia withdrew its participation from Earth Fleet, and Russian space forces would operate independently for the next eighteen years.


European Union

The modern European Union is, by any account, among the best places to live for humans. Its 43 member states are almost universally prosperous, stable, and healthy. Although the 21st century saw the continued decline of European participation in global political affairs, the economic fortunes of Europe soared under the professional technical leadership of EU managers and a tradition of hard negotiation for advantageous trading positions. Other than the OES itself, the EU is the largest cohesive political entity on Earth in terms of both population and raw wealth, though it still lags the United States in actual per-capita income. The EU is notable for controlling a larger portion of votes in the OES general assembly than any other member, and it is the only supra-national entity which participates in that organization. This was a strategic move on the part of the EU members (or, perhaps, on the part of the EU technocrats who began proceedings to join the OES while most European nations were still responding to the events of the Caspian War), as they effectively have veto power over many OES decisions. Far from using this leverage to dominate OES affairs, however, the EU has used it primarily in a passive role, ensuring that Europe has a central role in matters of commerce and that European businesses are given favorable treatment when it comes to competing for Earth Fleet contracts and opportunities other global-scale projects. When it comes to setting diplomatic or military priorities, however, the EU can usually be counted on to abstain, though it is not unheard of for another faction such as the United States or Russia to cajole the Europeans into supporting a specific issue, especially following promises of trade concessions. Domestically, the EU bears many resemblances to the United States. Its businessmen are some of the wealthiest in the world and are a significant source of capital for many of Earth's industries as well as ventures such as the space elevators and Lunar colony. Unlike their American counterparts, however, European investment firms still maintain significant exposure within their domestic markets and active participation of businessmen in the political arena is still a common sight; indeed it is not unheard of for prominent businessmen to themselves campaign for top political positions, and sometimes continue managing their business ventures even after succeeding, despite EU sanctions against such conflicts-of-interest. Finally, the European Space Agency has earned a prestigious reputation as the world's top civilian space programs. The ESA often operates in support of Earth Fleet itself, both as a technical advisor and in conducting unmanned, often highly specialized operations. When the OES undertook to reconnoiter Mercury after humanity's bizarre first-contact communications with the Tharn, Earth Fleet requested the ESA to construct and operate the unmanned MerCAR probe in lieu of detaching part of Earth Fleet's already overtaxed contingent of ships. Although the MerCAR probe ultimately failed to fulfill its goals, the mission itself marked the beginning of a close relationship between Earth Fleet and the ESA, the latter of which now often operates with a global mandate, rather than simply for the interests of its European managers.


Space Elevators

Although proposals for space elevators and other alternative space launching methods had been on the drawing boards for decades, it was not until the arrival of alien colonization missions in the Solar System that a concerted effort was made to realize them. In particular, after the Charterlings appeared and began their attempts to drive the Bats away from Jupiter space, many Earth governments instructed their space agencies to develop construction programs. In the end, however, even the United States government found such a large project to be too large an expense to justify, as well as too tedious to deal with an immediate threat such as the Charterlings were perceived to be. Ultimately, Earth's first space elevator was a private-sector venture, organized and funded by a consortium of global companies led by the Lockheed Group. In 2049 the consortium settled on a region in the mountains northeast of Quito as the site for their elevator, both because of the area's geographic advantages and the highly favorable terms of their agreement with the Ecuadorean government. Construction took just under ten years and final costs were in excess of two hundred billion euros, several consortium partners went bankrupt before the elevator was completed. The reasons for these excessive costs (Earth's next completed space elevator in Kampala cost less than €15 billion) had less to do with the prototypical nature of the project and were more the result of an extremely ambitious design. During the initial phases, the Lockheed Group's President and CEO, Constantino Toselli, was a space enthusiast who promoted a vision of a launching site which would serve as Earth's primary space transport hub. Although Toselli was removed from his position in 2054 before the elevator was completed, his design philosophy persisted. In 2059 the Quito spaceport opened with three functional tethers already in place, a number which rapidly expanded to the two-dozen tethers operating in 2073. Quito remains the single largest spaceport on Earth, twice as large as its closest competitor near Singapore and with nearly three times the yearly lifting capacity. Each of Quito's tethers is a complex weave of multiple carbon-fiber cables which contribute to a significantly greater durability and ease-of-repair over the single-cable tethers of elevators such as the one in Kampala. By the time the Quito spaceport opened, however, the continued escalation of the conflict over Jupiter had led to a rapid expansion of Earth Fleet and human interest in space, which in turn led to a greater demand for improved access to space over conventional rocket launches. Encouraged by the Quito venture, more corporations in partnership with some governments signed on to begin construction on smaller elevator complexes, most notably Singapore in 2053 and Kampala in 2057. The Kampala spaceport is significantly smaller than Quito, although still tremendously profitable, and in 2073 lifts payloads along 5 simple single-cable tethers. Singapore's elevator, on the other hand, is a far more complex affair. Its base station is actually a sea-going platform with some degree of mobility, although it tends not to stray too far from Singapore itself (where most cargo is required to be transshipped). Construction of the Singapore elevator was plagued with delays, cost overruns, and malfunctions, including the catastrophic failure of one of the first tethers just as it was nearing completion due to an apparent meteor impact (and conspiracy theories abound as to the "true story" behind this event). However, after opening five years behind schedule in 2066, the Singapore space-and-sea-port has had a successful operating history and by 2073 is Earth's second largest spaceport behind Quito, although it operates with significantly thinner profit-margins. There are a handful of other space elevators operating or in construction, although they are all far smaller affairs, usually single tethers capable of lifting only small payloads. The most notable of these is a spaceport financed and operated solely by the Indian government near the Maldives which is a virtual copy of the Singaporean waterborne design, although implemented on a smaller scale. The only significant spaceport remaining which does not operate an elevator is the Baikonur Cosmodrome. Despite the damage the facility received in 2051, the Cosmodrome was repaired and greatly expanded by the Russian government as a result of its determination to maintain a strong presence in space separate from Earth Fleet. In 2061, however, Russia announced that it would be building its own space elevator with help from the Charterlings and using advanced materials provided by that species. Construction had not begun, however, by the time Russia expelled the Charterling embassy in 2065 and many have speculated that the aliens were simply using the Russians for their own purposes and never intended to assist with any such project at all.

[Big Brother]

Like the idea, Lorpy. Let us know if you develop it further!

[Lorpius Prime]

Thanks! I just developed the (*Spain*) race some more, including giving them a name, for which I was partly inspired by your suggestions, Mart. Also fleshed out the timeline significantly, and I think it's reached the point of the start of the first actual story.

Comments, questions, and suggestions are always appreciated.

EDIT: Also gave a name to the (*UK*) species at last and appended an explanation to their bio section.

EDIT 2: Added one timeline note. Also decided to start adding some of my thoughts about the state of Earth with some detail history about some of humanity's governing organizations.

[Lorpius Prime]

Added Russia and a paragraph on OES governance.

[Lorpius Prime]

Added the EU.

[Lorpius Prime]

Added notes on Earth's Space Elevators.

Starting to think my next update should be adding some friendlier paragraph formatting.

[Lorpius Prime]

Prologue

GJS Liberator, Kuiper Belt, 2206 AD.

Gazwah Michael tapped a finger on the arm of his chair as he surveyed his command deck. It was smaller than the compartments used by Fleet ships of the same class. There were three reasons for that. Partly it reflected a design philosophy with less emphasis on excessively detailed instrumentation than that favored by Fleet engineers. Partly it reflected the Jihad's more pressing manpower concerns and resultant willingness to consolidate command duties. Mostly it reflected the fact that the Liberator and her sister ships had very little volume to spare for such luxuries as a spacious bridge.

The reason for that was that every one of the thirty-three ships in her flotilla were equipped with a new machine, a machine which would at long last bless the Jihad with victory. Michael himself had commanded the cruiser which had seized the original technology from the Ifriti transport seven years ago. Even then he had known that it would be the key to his people's triumph, and that knowledge would have given him more than sufficient satisfaction for the remainder of his mortal existence. He had been granted command of the flotilla as a hero's reward; Michael would have never dared presume to ask for such an honor himself.

By themselves the Liberator, the eight other cruisers, and the flotilla's two-dozen destroyers were worth more than the combined might of every ship in the Fleet. More than every ship of the entire Line, Michael corrected himself. The other Gazwaht didn't think the Ifriti had ever bothered apply their own equipment in the manner that the Jihad's engineers had developed. Michael did know, from his own contacts, that the Fleet had a very good idea what was going on, to the point that many of those contacts were envious. But the Fleet was still too comitted to the Line to risk offending the Ifriti, and so the task of liberation fell to the Jihad alone, as its followers had always known it would.

An officer in the pit below Michael turned in his chair and Michael lifted his chin from his left palm to pay attention. The officer in question was Rashid, the only other Mujahid on Michael's command staff, and the one in charge of monitoring Liberator's special equipment. Which meant...

"Sir," Rashid announced, "the sensors are reporting a shadow."

Michael could feel the tension which engulfed the command deck, and he nodded slowly, careful not to betray his own nerves to the others.

"Are they able to resolve the image?"

Rashid glanced back at his monitor for a moment, "No sir. One indistinct detection."

Michael started to grimace, but the emotion was interrupted by another of his officers. Nicole, a Fedaya and the only woman among the bridge crew, nearly jumped out of her chair. "Vindicator reports two discrete shadows, sir."

Michael rotated his chair towards the communications officer, but she was too engaged with her console to turn around, "Emancipator confirms two discrete shadows," she reported. "And..." she stumbled and at last turned back to look at Michael, eyes wide in fear, "their detection is positive for acceleration."

Michael nodded gravely, hoping his confidence would reassure her and the other Fedayeen who were looking toward him.

"I can confirm two discrete now," Rashid called, his faith immune to the mounting worry of the others. "Both shadows are decelerating to zero about point-oh-six AU from our position."

Michael keyed up the data onto his own monitor for consideration. "All cruisers except Deliverance are confirming," Nicole announced, and Michael waved in acknowledgment.

"Shadows have completed deceleration at predicted coordinates," the tactical officer announced, more for the benefit of his comrades than Michael, who could already see the sensor data.

"The two closest destroyers?" he asked.

"Vindicator and Justice," the tactical officer, his name was Suk, responded.

"Very well," Michael folded his hands together, "assign their targets and tell them to stand by warp drives, they will engage on my signal."

"Radar's got a reading!" shouted the Fedaya monitoring the Liberator's more conventional sensors. "Not much, probably just an antenna."

"They're broadcasting," Nicole chimed in, confirming the sensor officer's hypothesis. "It's the standard."

Michael took a deep breath, then stood up. All eyes were once again upon him.

"Then let us have a final look upon the face of our enemy," he said. "All monitors."

The gesture was unusually dramatic, but Michael felt the enormity of their situation justified a bit of theater. Such emotional cues could make a big difference in morale, and Michael might not ever get another chance to reach his crew this way. Michael expected to survive this operation, but he had not risen to his position by refusing to acknowledge the possibility of failure. And even if Liberator survived…

"Repeat our feed throughout the flotilla as well," he amended, and the communications officer adjusted her controls to comply.

Every non-essential monitor on the Liberator's command deck and throughout the entire ship flickered to display the incoherent static which announced a forthcoming video message. Michael considered saying a few words to the fleet before the message appeared, but quickly discarded the thought as he ran out of time.

The message was not the same as the one the Jihad showed in its schools and academies. No one was really sure if the videos were pre-recorded or produced on the spot. If they were recordings, however, the Maridjinn had updated their library. The face of the man which appeared on the monitors barely showed the presence of the machines which the jinn used to whisper to him. Michael had to bite his lip to remind himself that what he was looking at was not the image of a man. It was not even an infidel, but a soulless corpse.

Still, even if the jinn had replaced their puppet, their words remained the same.

"Hello," said the abomination on the screen. Its mouth moved like an ordinary man's, but its pale blue eyes remained unblinkingly fixed on some arbitrary point in the distance. "The presumed human occupants of your human vessels are welcomed to the Solar System. You will presently be assigned to appropriately fulfilling and needed tasks according to current Doctrine in pursuit of Salvation. We regret to inform you that ongoing conflict between Doctrine and unassigned humans necessitates that your assignments take place under threat of overwhelming force. If you are volunteers, you need not be alarmed; discontinue acceleration and maneuvers and await the presence of Doctrine instructors. Otherwise, Doctrine instructors will presently disassemble your vessels and proceed with involuntary assignment. Welcome."

The video signal and its terrible avatar winked out of existence.

There was a brief silence on the command deck as Michael thought a brief prayer for the soul of the man who had just addressed them. Rashid probably did the same, and perhaps even some of the Fedayeen did so as well.

The tactical officer was the first to break the silence. "Shadows are accelerating again," he announced, and transferred his tracking data to Michael's display before his commander could ask.

"You have assigned targets and vectors for Justice and Vindicator?"

"Yes sir," Suk looked over his shoulder to nod gravely.

Michael returned the gesture, "Then order them to engage."

He clasped his hands behind his back and looked up at the low ceiling as the tactical officer entered the commands.

"Record a message for their crews, Sister Nicole," he said. "'May God's blessing be upon you.'"

[Lorpius Prime]

Chapter 1

2073 AD.

Pascual Augusto Molinas was a diplomat. He was a highly ranked diplomat, too, since he reported directly to the Councilor for Foreign Affairs, who himself reported directly to the Chief Executive of the Organization of Earth States. In terms of his official authority, Pascual was outranked by less than a dozen people on the entire planet. In terms of his unofficial authority, one could be forgiven for thinking that Pascual was even more highly ranked, since the Chief Executive of the Organization of Earth States was, in fact, Pascual's uncle. But then one would be forgetting that Pascual was a diplomat.

Pascual was not qualified to judge the relative merits of inertial navigation systems for military spacecraft, nor arrogant enough to imagine that he was. If anyone ever bothered to ask, Pascual would have admitted that his technical knowledge of advanced flying vessels ended with paper airplanes.

But no one ever asked. They either looked at his place in the bureaucratic hierarchy or, more probably, they looked at his last name, and they decided that this guy was a real mover and shaker.

Which was why when Pascual's uncle paged him, he had been in Martha's Vineyard in a clothing shop so upscale that the sales tax alone could probably have put a family of five over the poverty line.

Pascual was more than a little relieved to receive the call and the excuse to pack his things. Martha's Vineyard was nice enough—the entire island was essentially one big enclave, but Pascual had still never been able to overcome his feeling of unease. He had been uncomfortable about staying in the United States ever since he and a school friend had once gotten lost outside of the Gainesville enclave. They had driven around the Florida countryside growing increasingly afraid for their lives, until they had finally been forced to stop and ask directions from a group of dirty-faced Americans in a town that looked like it was constructed mostly out of mud. They had gotten home safely, but Pascual transferred to Cambridge that same year.

He shuddered at the memory, then tried to focus his thoughts. Sonia would give him a tongue-lashing, but would not be seriously upset. Actually she would probably choose to stay behind for a few more days and visit more of the shops that she had been dragging Pascual into whenever they weren't attending lobbying sessions cleverly disguised as fancy dinners.

Pascual folded up his phone and returned it to its home in his stretchy pants pocket. His bigger problem was going to be Ms. Fournier, their hostess. She had become increasingly frustrated the last few days as she began to realize that Pascual Molinas was not the perfect opportunity her third-tier defense contractor needed to get its foot in the door on some upcoming prime Fleet bids. Pascual rather suspected that Fournier's company wouldn't have had a snowball's chance in hell of dislodging any of the big consortiums from that market even if she were having dinner with Admiral Kozlov himself. Not that Pascual was about to pass up the opportunity to eat thousand-euro lobster for free by saying so.

He wondered if the complimentary meals were likely to end after he told Ms. Fournier about his early departure. Pascual resolved not to reveal the information at least until they were already seated for that evening's dinner.

Part of him was tempted to leave even before dinner. His uncle's refusal to discuss the reasons for the abrupt summons had only worked to send Pascual's curiosity into overdrive. But Eduard Molinas had said he would brief Pascual tomorrow, and Pascual knew that expediting his return would do nothing to change the timing of that meeting. Plus, he really wanted another dinner like the previous three. The busy pace of work meant that his usual diet was not kind to his stomach.

Pascual pushed open the door to the hotel suite's little office and returned to the big bedroom and living area. Sonia was standing in front of a three-way mirror in one corner, inspecting one of the dresses that she had bought in a hurry after Pascual had been paged. Pascual thought it would have looked very nice on her if it wasn't such a painful shade of yellow.

Sonia looked back at him over her shoulder, "What did he say?" Then she noticed the way Pascual was looking at her. "What?" she demanded sharply.

Pascual tried to correct his grimace, but it was difficult. "That's a really bad color," he said.

She rolled her eyes, "Well it's this or the backless for dinner this evening, so pick one."

He looked over to the black dress on the bed which she was indicating, and blinked.

"Does that even qualify as clothing?"

She put her hands on her hips and glared at him for a moment before shaking her head, "No, I'm having too nice a time to get angry with you. What did your uncle say?"

Pascual told her.

It turned out Sonia was not having too nice a time to get angry after all.

* * *

Captain Lee Xi Feng set her shoulders and folded her hands behind her back in the slow, methodical way she had practiced for many years. Done right, the gesture struck a dignified and commanding pose. If she moved with too much haste or violence, however, it would send her spinning across the deck, hardly the image Xi Feng wanted to project at any time.

The grey and cratered surface of the moon slid lazily overhead. The intricate spider webs of linear accelerators, habitats, and industrial compounds were growing large enough to see from orbit now. Environmentalists were beginning to wail about that, but no one important really cared. Xi Feng certainly had no sympathy. Such was progress.

She took a deep breath, letting her chest fill with satisfaction and sterile, recycled air. Xi Feng didn't actually visit the observation bubble that often, even when she did have free time away from the mundane aspects of her work. She found space to be interesting, even beautiful at times, but it wasn't something over which she ever became giddy or tearful like so many others she knew. Xi Feng had been drawn to space because it was in space that humanity's destiny would be made or lost, and she had seized the opportunity to be a part of that with both hands, like a greedy child.

It had paid off, too. Xi Feng's cruiser, the EFS Uruguay, was the lead ship of the Fleet's most powerful class of warships. It was an honor the vessel would hold for at least another year, until the Moscow finally left its yard. Xi Feng was in personal command of more nuclear warheads than had been used on both sides of the entire Straits War. She could launch them in flights of twenty from the Uruguay's rails, or in two apocalyptic barrages from their rocket pods. Doctrine was still divided over which was the best approach. Combined with the ship's array of short-range cannon and lasers, the Uruguay had enough firepower to qualify as an entire first-tier national military all on its own.

Yesterday the Uruguay had joined five other ships of its class, two dozen older cruisers, and five destroyer squadrons, Earth Fleet's entire home division, in standing off a single armed cutter sent by the Bats in violation of the Earth Exclusion Zone. Neither Xi Feng nor any of her fellow captains were sure they could have won the battle if the Bats had refused to withdraw.

Steps sounded in the halls. Xi Feng did not look away from the scenery above her. Even several inches thick, the new plastics hardly distorted the image at all. A few people had actually proposed making entire hulls out of the stuff, much to the dismay of old school designers who couldn't seem to think in terms of anything other than plate steel. "Armor", they called it. As if anything the human race could build would stand up to gigajoule lasers or iron slugs traveling at ninety-percent of light speed. No, the big trick to surviving space combat was to not get hit in the first place. It was also the only trick.

The steps ended and Lt. Commander Hiram Wade deftly planted his feet and grabbed the ceiling handles to bring himself to a stop alongside Xi Feng. He glanced up at the lunar view overhead before turning his attention to the woman beside him.

"Hiding from me, Captain?"

"Apologies, Commander," Xi Feng replied without looking at him. "I thought I would catch a glimpse of our ward for myself."

"Ahh," he said, and gazed up once more. "I came to inform you that the watch is transferring to us in half an hour."

Xi Feng nodded. Her feet were leaving the deck now, and she reached up a hand to brace against the ceiling and steady herself back into place. The longest she had ever been able to keep that pose was five minutes, so holding it for even three was good.

"The section chiefs will have everyone at their posts?"

"Yes, sir. You just need to give the word."

Xi Feng tore her eyes away from the view to look at her executive officer. "Give it another fifteen minutes, then sound for general quarters."

"Aye aye, sir," he gave the exaggerated nod which had replaced traditional salutes in an environment where free hands were a luxury.

A pause, and both of them looked up as a shape cut across the lunar surface. Even at this distance, the tremendous volume of the alien vessel was apparent. Intelligence had taken to calling it a "small transport", but it was still larger than any cruiser the Fleet had even designed. Yet another indication of how far humanity still had to go.

"Think we'll have any more problems?" the XO asked.

"The Bats already made their bid," Xi Feng shook her head. "And the word is these guys are actually friendly with the Charterlings."

"And the Kyhyex?"

She shrugged, "Who can say? Either they will or they won't, but my feeling is they would have tried something by now if they were so inclined." She pushed away from the window with one hand and twisted around. "Not that we won't be ready for them if they show up anyway."

Lt. Commander Wade smiled slightly, "So have you looked at their pictures yet?"

"I have."

"Then you need to hear what Chief Hamad thinks we should be calling them."

* * *

"And how, exactly, have you managed to keep this out of the news?"

The building's air conditioner was failing to keep up with the Caracas heat, and Pascual loosened the top button of his collar, noticing that the two men across the table from him had already done the same.

The one on the right, Councilor Durante, Pascual's boss, shrugged.

"We haven't actually tried that hard. The Fleet's keeping silent, obviously, but there are going to be a lot of reporters kicking themselves in a few days. No one on the moon seems to have given the ship a second glance yet."

Pascual sighed, and shuffled through some of the papers laid out in front of them, trying to take in everything at once. "Why did we leave them hanging for so long?"

"Quarantine," Durante said. "They're not as simple as the Bats, apparently, and it took a few days to make sure we could reconcile environments."

"Speaking of…" Pascual picked up one of the pages he'd found particularly disturbing, "they actually sent a warship?"

The man on the left, who was Durante's boss, nodded, "I threatened to expel Hyarahek and his entire delegation before he called them off."

Pascual grimaced at his uncle. Eduard Molinas was Chief Executive of the Organization of Earth States; he had to know that he had been playing with fire by making such threats. And that told Pascual just how serious this business was. He suppressed the urge to swallow.

"All right then, what do you want me to do?"

"Just sit in for now," Durante said, after waiting for Eduard Molinas' nod of permission. "We're still feeling our way into this one at the moment, but my impression is we're going to need someone who can represent Earth on a high level assigned to this case on a long-term basis. The Chief Executive asked for you, and I agree," Pascual could see the honesty in his expression, and felt his ego swell just a little.

He went on, "We've got a pair of Bats in the room to advise and help out with any communication issues."

"And to spy for Hyarahek," Pascual added.

Both men nodded. "Yes," acknowledged Durante, "so we'd like you to keep an eye on them, too. I don't know if you'll be able to glean much, but see if you can't get a feel for how they'll respond to anything we do."

"You know if they've already threatened armed action, we may be walking into extremely dangerous territory by doing anything, right?"

Nods again, graver this time. Pascual sighed; it wasn't his place to question decisions, just to offer his assessment of a situation.

"Have we gotten anything better to call them since we've talked?"

His uncle smirked, but it was Durante who answered, "Not yet. We did ask them, but either they were having difficulty with the concept, or our translators were with their answer. We're still going with the Bat label at the moment."

"And did we ever figure out what, uh, 'Kekregka' means?" Pascual raised an eyebrow.

Durante winced, and Eduard Molinas chuckled. "The last time I asked a linguist about it," the Chief Executive said, "he told me that 'shit heads' would not be far off the mark."

Pascual rolled his eyes.

"But," his uncle went on, grinning, "Kozlov told me that some of his intelligence people have been using another name, one which he and I both found quite fitting."

"Tell me," Pascual tapped a finger against the table, trying to encourage his uncle to get to his point.

"Tadpoles," he said, and laughed.

Pascual rolled his eyes again, but the Chief Executive just laughed harder.

[Lorpius Prime]

Chapter 2

Pascual joined the conference that afternoon following a late lunch. They were using one of the secure meeting rooms near the top of the foreign ministry building. The designers had compensated for the lack of windows by using a high ceiling and relatively small central table to create a feeling of spaciousness.

There were seven people in the Human delegation. Pascual took a seat at the left end of the long table, which was the one closest to the door; he was not yet an active member of the negotiations and as such was to remain unobtrusive. Councilor Durante sat in the center of the table and the Deputy Councilor in charge of the Bat Section, Omar Khatib, was on his right. Each of them was accompanied by two aides from their offices, who took up the flanks, putting Pascual next to Rosa Johnson, Durante's Press Secretary. She brushed off Pascual's brief attempt at small talk and looked away from him, compulsively twirling a pen through her fingers near her left ear.

At the far end of the table from Pascual, someone had set up a smaller table to provide enough space for the two Bat representatives to sit side by side. They were waiting in silence, like a pair of gargoyles wearing their funny green berets that marked them as diplomatic officers. One of them was digging absent-mindedly into the tabletop with a claw. Or perhaps he was intentionally destroying the wooden surface; it was always difficult to tell.

Across the table were the Tadpoles. Pascual had to admit that the name fit so well he was now using it as his mental label for the aliens. They looked remarkably human, in some ways more so than even the Bats, enough so that one might even mistake them for ordinary people at a distance. They were larger than humans, spanning just under a meter at the shoulder. Their limbs were swollen like bodybuilders', and they stood with a pronounced forward hunch as if walking under a tremendous weight. They wore only minimal clothing, a single tube of cloth wrapped around their waists like a kilt, which left uncovered most of their orange-brown and leathery skin. But the Tadpoles' most distinctive feature was a furry black ridge that stood up against their skin and ran from the top of their wide skulls down their backs and past their waist to become a thin, stubby tail. The trait gave them the appearance of an Earth frog just exiting its larval stage. It also prevented them from using a human chair properly, and they had been procured stools instead.

There were three of them in the delegation, and Durante addressed the one sitting rightmost. "Ambassador Rokden, welcome back, I hope you have enjoyed your morning. Allow me to introduce Ambassador Pascual Molinas," he gestured to Pascual. "He is the nephew of our Chief Executive and is a trusted representative of the Organization of Earth States."

Pascual inclined his head, "I am honored to meet you, Ambassador."

Rokden turned his head, slowly, to look at Pascual, then gurgled something, presumably in his own language. Pascual managed to look impassive, and the Tadpole turned back to Councilor Durante without elaborating.

"Where is your leader?" he asked. His voice was deep and gravelly, and had almost a movie-monster quality to it.

"Chief Molinas has many duties as the highest officer of the Earth government, and as the President of Mexico, one of our constituent states. He regrets that these duties mean he cannot attend every meeting between our people. But be assured, Ambassador, that as our highest diplomatic officer, I am fully accredited to represent Earth at these meetings."

Rokden nodded, and Pascual wondered if that gesture meant the same thing for him as it did to humans. He might even be consciously using a bit of human body language. After all, the Tadpoles had apparently picked up on Earth's spoken languages—or at least, English—faster than even the Bats had managed.

"We are willing to speak with whomever you wish," the Tadpole said, "as long as you will help us."

"Ahh, yes," Durante said, leaning forward slightly, "I'm afraid we still don't entirely understand why you would feel the need to come to us with any request. It is a long way from Titania to Earth, and your people have never bothered to contact us before."

Rokden and the other Tadpoles leaned forward as well, perhaps in imitation of the Councilor. "We did not come out of a desire for friendship with your species, do not think us deceitful. We have come out of a great necessity; my people are confronting a terrible crisis."

"We wish you had come earlier, humanity seeks friendship with all species, including yours, Ambassador."

"We have come now. Will you assist us?"

Durante shook his head, "We want friendship with all species, but humanity cannot afford to trust others too easily. You admit that friendship with Earth has not been a concern of your people before now. Why do you seek our help when others are nearer to your settlement?"

The Tadpoles seemed to think this was an appropriate time to straighten up out of their lean, even though Durante continued to rest on his elbows against the table.

"The Charterlings in this system have been unable to offer the assistance we need, their colony is simply too primitive." Pascual raised an eyebrow at that. No one he knew in the OES bureaucracy would have called any of the alien colonies "primitive", especially not in comparison to Earth.

Rokden went on, "And as for these," he and the other members of his delegation turned towards the Bats sitting on their left, "they would rather we all died so that they could consume the rotting pulp of our innards."

Everyone in the human delegation winced. Predictably, and not unjustifiably, both of the Bat representatives stood up in their chairs and began shouting at the Tadpoles in their shrill language. The Tadpoles remained seated, saying nothing, but this just seemed to anger the Bats even more. One of them reached out a clawed hand, looking like he was about to attack Rokden.

"Please!" bellowed Deputy Councilor Khatib, holding up his hands. His voice was almost as deep as the Tadpole Ambassador's, and helped to inspire a great respect for him among his colleagues. It worked to forestall a fight between the aliens, too. The Tadpoles turned back to look at the humans, and the Bats at least feel silent, even if they remained standing and clearly seething.

"Ambassador Rokden," the Tanzanian Councilor said in a lecturing voice, "the Bats have always been friendly to humanity, and we hold their counsel in high regard. I hope you will take the fact that we have agreed to meet with your delegation over that counsel as a sign of our willingness to welcome any species with honorable intentions, and will not use it as an opportunity to insult our friends."

Durante, Pascual, and the four human aides all nodded in agreement. Khatib was painting a rosier picture of the relationship between Earth and the Bats than the reality, but they were still the closest thing mankind had to friends in the solar system these days.

There were a few seconds of strained silence before the Tadpole Ambassador spoke again. "Very well. I apologize." He paused while the Bats sat down, though they did so somewhat grumpily. "My people have much at stake; we must be willing to accept help wherever we can find it."

"Then perhaps," Pascual spoke up for the first time, eager to get the discussion moving forward again before any more arguments broke out, "you should tell us more about what exactly the problem is that your people seem to be facing."

He glanced to his right, hoping he hadn't spoken out of turn, but Durante and Khatib both nodded in agreement.

Rokden nodded, but did not reply at once. Instead he looked to one of the two Tadpoles seated next to him, and the two aliens spent a moment conversing. Their language sounded to Pascual like old plumbing, as if their throats were filled with rusty, dripping pipes. After the Tadpoles had finished, Rokden looked back around and nodded again.

"Our information on this system was incomplete," he said, "and we departed intending to settle on a much less challenging world. The extreme climate of our colony has required us to use a vacuum habitat which we purchased from our own Charterlings as an emergency substitute. But there was a flaw in the design, and the habitat is unsuitable for us."

"So you can't use it?" Councilor Durante asked.

The Tadpoles looked mournful; their body language really was remarkably similar to humans'. "We must use it, we have no alternative. But our Enharg are dying."

Enharg? Pascual raised an eyebrow, and turned to find the rest of his delegation already looking over towards the Bats.

One of them twitched his nose. "The word is one of their self-references, but they more often use it to mean something like 'soul'. In this case, however, he means they are being poisoned. Their colony has been in contact with Governor Shyankyang for some time now about their troubles."

"My people are too desperate for enemies now," Rokden said.

"Gentlemen," Durante said, raising his voice slightly to head off another argument. "Ambassador," he addressed the Tadpole, "if your colony is unsustainable, then maybe your people should return to their homeworld."

The Tadpoles all straightened. "We cannot, Councilor," Rokden said, sounding angry. "Our warp transport no longer has the resources to sustain us; we would die attempting to make a return journey."

Durante sighed, "Well I'm sorry to hear that. But I'm not sure how Earth could be of any assistance to you in this matter."

"You could provide us with a replacement habitat."

The Foreign Councilor blinked, "I'm grateful for your confidence in my species, Ambassador, but that sounds like it would be beyond even our means. Our own colonies are still quite dependent on supplies from Earth."

Rokden shook his massive head, "My people simply need a viable habitat. Your planet has produced an installation which is capable of meeting our needs with only minor alterations to interface with our equipment. You are currently transporting it to this system's fourth planet."

"Wait, you want the Mars colony?" that was Miss Johnson, who had dropped her pen and was now staring slack-jawed at the Tadpole Ambassador.

Her boss gave her a sharp look and she shrunk down into her seat with a cringe. Pascual had to suppress a gleeful smile.

"Apologies, Ambassador," Durante said, "but I share some of my assistant's surprise. We do have the start of a colonization effort underway to Mars. Even if you could make use of it, however, I don't believe that is something Earth would be willing to just give up."

"No, we will trade for it."

Durante was shaking his head, "You don't understand Ambassador. Earth businesses have been working on the colony for nearly a decade; it's an investment of tremendous value. It's not something I think my people will consider simply trading for."

"We will give you a weapon," Rokden said, and every human in the room froze. "We have seen how your planet is struggling to construct a battle fleet. My transport has brought one of the heavy lasers from our warp ship. We will give it to you in exchange for your 'Mars colony'."

Pascual barely noticed when the Bats began screaming again.

* * *

The Uruguay had been at heightened alert for twelve hours now and Captain Lee still didn't know why. Fleet Command had ordered Uruguay to immediately cease and withdraw the close-range probes she had been using to gather detailed intelligence on the Tadpole transport, and to raise the threat level on the alien ship. The ship Captain Lee and her crew had so recently been guarding was now a potential target.

Xi Feng had fudged a little on the probes. The techies had been just about ready to run a spectrometer analysis of the transport's hull, and Xi Feng had judged the intelligence important enough to give them another hour before calling them off. She was glad that she had, too, although the results had been less than exciting. Apparently the Tadpoles built their ships out of the same high-carbon steel as plated the outer surface of the Uruguay.

Steel hull, electric thrusters throwing xenon ions, ordinary low-power lasers for sweeping debris, the only thing exotic about the ship was that it was big. Nothing hinted at what might be the next great step in starship, but it did tell Xi Feng enough to know that she could kill it. All of the Uruguay's rails were loaded and the capacitors charged. If she gave the order to fire, the transport would survive slightly more than twelve seconds before it died in a cluster of nuclear fireballs.

Xi Feng just wished she knew why. Two days ago she had put herself, her ship, and 60 crewmen between that transport and a hostile warship which could have blasted right through them all like so much tissue paper. Xi Feng did not like the thought that they might have all been asked to risk their lives for no good cause.

"Captain, you want to see this." Xi Feng blinked herself out of her thoughts to look over to Armando Salinas, the current duty officer for the sensor station.

"What have you got, Lieutenant?" she unbuckled the straps holding her into her acceleration chair.

"That shuttle's in range of the telescope, sir," Xi Feng walked hand-over-hand to his station and Salinas rotated his chair so that she could look past him to his monitor.

Fleet Command had refused to broadcast detailed orders about the alert for fear of interception. Unfortunately, they had also refused to use a laser comm, which struck Xi Feng as overly paranoid. Instead, they were sending someone over on a Fleet shuttle to brief the Uruguay's captain in person, which struck everyone as overly paranoid. But even at this distance, it was clear that the vessel on Lt. Salinas' monitor did not have the lines of a standard shuttle.

"An assault shuttle?" Xi Feng chided herself for losing control of her voice. No matter how surprised she was, it was poor form to show it to her subordinates.

Everyone else on the bridge turned to gape. "Give me that feed!" the tactical officer demanded.

A moment as Lt. Salinas punched in the appropriate commands. Then: "Well I'll be damned. That's what it looks like to me too, Captain."

Much to the disappointment of film and game producers, Earth Fleet had never created a Marine Corps to accompany its battle fleet. The gruff space marine clad in power armor was an absurd fantasy. There was no place for boarding actions in space combat, except as a joke. Every Earth Fleet captain knew that.

Except that four years ago, Russia had acceded to the OES; and when the Russian space forces were integrated into Earth Fleet, they had come with a battalion of Russian space marines and all of their equipment. Including the specially designed shuttle which was now closing with the Uruguay.

This promised to be interesting.

* * *

The two ships made an awkward pair as they spun lazily through their orbit. The Uruguay class of cruisers had been designed specifically to permit Fleet shuttles to dock securely in the larger ships' cargo bays, so that they could be hauled long distances. The Russian assault shuttles, however, had not been built to Fleet standards, and had to dock at one of the Uruguay's conventional personnel hatches. The long cylinder of the shuttle now stuck out at a right angle to the cruiser's length, interrupting her sleek lines.

In her briefing room, Captain Lee bowed her head twice. "Admiral Blevins, Colonel Solyanov."

They both returned the salute, and Rear Admiral Blevins gestured for everyone to take a seat. Despite the significant improvements in engineering and design over the preceding Washington line of cruisers, the Uruguay was still pressed for space; and the briefing room was one of the areas in which the designers had been particular ruthless about taking out every inch of excess. There was enough room for Xi Feng and her seven senior officers to sit down; but they would know each other very well afterward. For this briefing, however, Xi Feng only had her Chief Tactical Officer and Chief of Intelligence, which meant that they were merely cramped.

"I'm sorry I can't take you off the alert for this, Captain," Blevins said as he settled into his seat, "but we still aren't sure how things are going to break, or when they might.

Xi Feng nodded. Commander Wade was taking her place on the bridge during the briefing; he and the rest of the senior crew would have to be filled in later. She waited for Blevins to continue.

"Well," the Welshman smirked, "I'm sure you're a might curious as to just what is going on here by now, Captain."

"I'd be tempted to beat it out of you, Admiral, if I didn't think the Colonel here would take both my arms off first."

Blevins chuckled and the Russian marine nodded to Xi Feng appreciatively. She had been fascinated to see the man board her ship. Unlike everyone else, he didn't use the ceiling handles to "walk" himself through the corridors, he just walked normally. There was some sort of adhesive on his boots which was strong enough to give him a completely secure hold on the deck, allowing him full freedom to use his hands for other purposes, like firing a weapon.

"It seems, Captain Lee, that our little friend out there," Blevins tilted his head in the direction of the bridge, but Xi Feng knew he was referring to the Tadpole transport, "is packing quite a bit more firepower than we originally thought."

"We ran some probes by on close-approach several hours ago, Admiral; we didn't see anything except standard debris brooms."

Blevins nodded, "It's not externally mounted, so Fleet doesn't think it's a threat, but we're not taking any chances either."

"What do they have?" that was Xi Feng's chief tactical officer, Lieutenant Cheyo.

Blevins sighed, and the expression on his pudgy face made him look slightly froglike. He paused a moment to look over the tactical officer, then turned his eyes back to Xi Feng, "I'm sure you remember the battlecruiser which the Kyhyex sent through here in 2053, Captain?"

"Yes," Xi Feng said flatly.

The Rear Admiral nodded, "Well apparently the lasers on that ship had about half the energy throughput of the monster these 'Tadpoles' have brought along."

Lieutenant Cheyo made a face, "Now, I never scored well in history, but we're talking about the ship which put a hole through Io, right?"

Blevins nodded an affirmative. Cheyo sighed, then glanced to the Uruguay's intelligence chief next to him, "You know, I thought we had rules against bringing stuff like that into Earth space."

Lieutenant Donaldson just shrugged slowly. "Legal in Texas," he said.

Xi Feng allowed herself a smile, but held up a hand to keep her crewmen from losing all perspective.

"Admiral," she asked, "am I to understand from this discussion that the Tadpoles' disposition towards us has changed?"

"The politicians are still working things out. Obviously we're hoping they'll find an acceptable settlement, but our job is to be ready if that doesn't happen."

"And I don't suppose you can tell us how likely that is?" Donaldson asked.

Blevins shook his head, "The negotiations are still classified above all of our pay grades. The only reason I'm able to tell you about the cargo our friends are carrying is so that you can help Colonel Solyanov seize it if necessary."

"Necessary", in this case, obviously meant if the Tadpoles tried to leave without handing the weapon over. It was the sort of morally dubious policy that the people in the briefing room might have questioned if they weren't all uniformed soldiers trying to defend their planet and their species against the constant pressure of an alien colonization effort. The aliens had warp engines, gravity shields, and particle cannons; Earth might as well have had wooden sticks. There wasn't a single Earth Fleet officer who would think twice about killing to get her hands on advanced technology that might even the odds even slightly. The politicians could worry about conscience.

"We'll support the Colonel in whatever way we can, Admiral. But there's not going to be much left for him to secure if we pump that ship full of nukes."

Blevins' smile was lopsided and apologetic, "No, Captain. The Uruguay is cover for Solyanov's team. Hopefully, the Tadpoles think that's just an ordinary shuttle clamped on out there. If the operation goes forward, they'll approach in the Uruguay's shadow."

Xi Feng managed not to grimace, and hoped her subordinates had the same composure. No one wanted to make themselves a target for enemy fire, no matter how much sense the military logic made. Unfortunately, to become targets was exactly what Blevins was asking Xi Feng and her crew to do. No, he was ordering them to do it.

She nodded, "Understood, Admiral." Then she turned her head to the Russian marine officer, "Colonel, I'd like to get your pilot talking with my navigator if we're going to coordinate this."

"Of course, Captain," Solyanov answered. "If you like I'll have Sergeant Markovic cross over as soon as we're done here. My understanding is the target cannot flee too quickly anyway, correct?"

Xi Feng let her intelligence officer field that one. "Reaction drives only, yes sir," Donaldson said. "They've got longer legs than us, but we can damn sure beat them in a sprint."

The Russian nodded graciously, but Blevins was positively beaming. "Excellent," he said. "Well people, as usual, if the government drops the ball, the Fleet will be there to pick it up again. Let's get to work."

[Lorpius Prime]

Chapter 3

"We're not seriously considering this, are we?"

"Of course we're considering it, Bernardo. You don't just reject an offer like this out of hand, no matter what the price is."

"Ed, we can't give them the Mars colony, are you out of your mind?"

Pascual was thumbing quietly through briefing papers while his uncle and Councilor Durante argued. They were in one of the Executive Building's conference rooms. It was furnished more like a lounge, and Pascual was enjoying the opportunity to stretch out his legs on a long couch without annoying Sonia or causing a diplomatic incident.

"No, Councilor, and that's not the sort of thing you should be suggesting. We can give them the colony habitats if we need to, even Willy thinks so."

The Chief Executive of the OES jerked a thumb at the small man sitting at one end of the conference table and reading the same reports as Pascual. He froze in mid-reach for the small cup of tea beside him.

"Ah, well yes, obviously we can give it to them if it comes to that," he said, looking unhappy about getting pulled into the argument. "But the aftermath wouldn't be pretty. Even if we compensated the stockholders, they're going to lose nearly a decade and all the revenue they're expecting, it could destroy some of them. But we don't have funds to pay compensation."

Eduard Molinas had seriously wrong-footed his political opponents by selecting Wilhelm Trautmann as his Financial Councilor. Trautmann was a highly respected German technocrat who had been a driving force behind the reform of the European Central Bank in the 2060s. The choice had immediately silenced about half of the Chief Executive's critics denouncing Molinas for corruption and cronyism, while throwing the other half into confusion. The latter group was suspicious, but had never been able to figure out why a solid anti-corruption figure like Trautmann would associate with the Molinas administration. Now that the Bank of Mexico had completely folded UBS into its own operations—and Eduard's bureaucrats had meticulously excised its records—they probably never would.

"You don't think we can scrape up the cash for three colony ships?" The Chief Executive rested his chin on one hand.

"No, I don't. Those three ships cost more than the Fleet's entire new line of cruisers. Lockheed's had to mortgage more of itself than any time since 2054 to pay for the project, and they're not even half of the ownership. And then there are the people who've already bought their passage over. If we seize the colony, those tickets are worthless."

The sixth man in the room decided it was time to speak. Admiral Lavrentiy Kozlov had been a necessary concession to the Russian Federation in order to secure its vote in the General Assembly for Molinas' election. Not that Russia actually had enough votes to make a difference, but no Chief Executive in his right mind was going to openly defy the country so soon after it had joined the planetary government. But after the election, the Chief Executive and the Admiral had discovered they got along rather well, and more often than not came down on the same side in policy matters.

"Due respect to my fellow councilors," the Admiral said from beneath his peaked cap, "but the laser these aliens are offering us is worth more than the entire Fleet. We must have it, and damn the expense."

Councilor Durante turned slightly purple. He and Kozlov did not get along, and Pascual suspected that his uncle's old friend deeply resented having to share influence with the newcomers on the Council.

Trautmann sighed and ran a hand through his hair, "I can't speak to the military considerations, obviously. I'm just saying we don't have the money to do this smoothly nor without upsetting some very important people in the business community. We can probably lean on the Americans to raise their contribution, and maybe Brazil as well. But the Indians are already pissed as hell at us, and no one else really has enough to make a difference."

"You forget your Euro-buddies," Kozlov snorted, but Trautmann shook his head.

"The Commission would probably be willing, but they're in the same boat we are. None of the member states like us very much, and they're certainly not going to want to make it easier for us to torpedo half their market leaders."

The Financial Councilor shrugged, almost helplessly, and no one said anything for a minute, mulling over their dilemma.

Chief Molinas turned around in his chair, "What do you think, Pascual?"

Pascual blinked, and shifted to sit upright on the couch. "Ah…" He looked between his uncle, the briefing papers still in his hand, and his still-fuming boss.

"Well, if we can't afford not to have it, but we can't afford to pay for it…"

His uncle raised an eyebrow, and Pascual shrugged, might as well just say it.

"Let's take it." He flicked the papers he held with a finger, "The Admiral's got a team in place to board their ship and take control of the laser. Tell them to go ahead and do it."

Trautmann blew out his cheeks, "That's one way to get what you want."

The Chief Executive looked grim, and he turned back to Kozlov for an opinion. But it was Durante who spoke first.

"They came to us for help, Ed. They need us and they're willing to give us technology in return. I don't think we can afford what they're asking for, but if we attack them, we'd be destroying the first opportunity to make a genuine ally that we've had."

Pascual was glad there were no Bats in the room to hear that, but not because he didn't think what Durante said was true. His uncle nodded, and rubbed the graying hair of his temples for a moment before looking back up.

"Lavrentiy?"

Kozlov made a face, "Actually, I agree with Councilor Durante here. Colonel Solyanov thinks his men can probably take the ship if they have to. One of our cruiser captains did some good spy work, and the alien ship doesn't appear to be any more armored than our own. But there are still a lot of unknowns. In particular, we don't know what sort of small arms the crew might be carrying, so we could be in for a surprise if we try anything."

He paused for a moment, and everyone nodded their acknowledgment. "But more importantly, sir," he said to the Chief Executive, "even if we got our hands on the laser no problem, there's a lot where it came from. These Tadpoles, if I may use the term, got to this system using a warp engine, even if their transport doesn't have the same technology. This laser was their opening offer, God knows what else we could get if we press them."

"Warp engines?" Trautmann's eyes were wide with imagination.

"The Bats will never let it happen," Durante said, but even didn't sound wholly convinced now.

"All right," Chief Molinas sighed, and looked to his Financial Councilor, "the Admiral's right, Willy, we have to do this. You've got to find a way."

Trautmann held out his palms, "The money isn't there. I appreciate the necessity of this move, believe me. But if we make the deal, it's going to hurt people, some of them quite badly. There's no way we can rig this so it won't."

"Do your best," the Chief Executive said, then turned to his Foreign Councilor. "Bernardo, we're going to go forward on this one. But I need you to sit down with Lavrentiy before you go back to the table tomorrow. Figure out what else we can squeeze them for before sealing the deal. And if you need to," he nodded gravely, "talk to Khatib about getting the Bats out of the room."

"Hyarahek will know something's up if we do that," Durante pointed out.

"He's going to know something's up no matter what we do. But I'm not feeling particularly generous towards him right now, so let him squirm. We refuse to roll over for anyone else; we're not going to do it for the Bats either."

Durante nodded, and Chief Molinas made one last sweeping glance around at the others in the room, then stood up. Everyone else hurried to do the same.

"Right, well I promised the Governor of Zacatecas that I'd call him back, so I need to go change hats. Thank you, gentlemen."

"Thank you, Chief," everyone said in return. They remained standing while the most powerful man on Earth left the room.

Admiral Kozlov was the first to plop back down into one of the large padded armchairs. He eyed Durante, "So, Councilor, just how much loot do you think you can swindle out of these creeps in return for saving their asses?"

* * *

Senior Command Operative Hyong Yaheek of the Republican Intelligence Service had long ago stopped pretending to have any respect for the man who was his official superior. His only vindication was that his superior had never shown any respect to Hyong. The practical result was that neither was surprised that the other did not salute when they met.

Ambassador Hyarahek did not even look up when Hyong entered the office. Instead, he continued to read whatever memo had been in front of him, while tapping a foreclaw against the surface of his desk. He was seeing how long he could ignore Hyong before the Operative began conversation. Hyong, however, was having none of it; he took a memo pad of his own off his belt and sat down in one of Hyarahek's chairs.

The Ambassador set his work down at once, looked over to Hyong, and hissed.

"I have issued instructions that you are to exchange your hat while assigned to this station, Operative." Hyarahek's eyes were fixed on the martial blue of Hyong's beret.

"I am a soldier," Hyong responded, clipping his memo pad back to his belt before he had a chance to activate it. "My commission gives me the right to wear this uniform, and you do not have the authority to revoke my commission."

"Insubordination!" Hyarahek seethed.

"Against an illegal directive, yes." Hyong scratched at the fur of his chin, this routine bored him.

Hyarahek replied with a few more curses and insults, none of which required Hyong's direct response. Eventually, he sputtered to a halt; he picked up his memo again, still glaring at his subordinate.

"You are becoming an embarrassment to this mission, Hyong Yaheek."

"Then grant one of my offers to return to the colony. I believe your office now has several copies to choose from. Or I can send another, if you like."

Hyarahek twitched. "You are becoming an embarrassment to your country," the Ambassador said.

"Isn't that why my country decided to 'relocate' me and my ilk to this backwater?"

The Ambassador's fur stood up slightly and the skin of his wings began to uncurl, but he ignored Hyong and pushed ahead.

"The human Khatib has told me that if this human female's family chooses to begin a lawsuit against you in their court, there is nothing his government can do to stop them." He looked at Hyong as if expecting the Operative to be humbled by the news.

"Yes, I am quite familiar with this planet's legal system, more than you seem to be. But even if the Humans do 'press charges', as they say, the court has no authority over me."

Hyarahek's claws closed around a heavy stone which he had brought from their home planet to adorn his desk, and for a moment it seemed he was going to throw it at Hyong.

"It's not about their authority! It will create a spectacle which will cause the Humans of this 'Venezuela' region to denounce you and weaken our influence over their government!"

Hyong made a dismissive gesture, "Their government does not care. They believe the people of this area to be backward reactionaries, which they are. Neither Gracia nor I have done anything wrong. If anyone is jeopardizing our influence with the Humans, it is you."

Hyarahek stood up and smoldered for a moment.

"They're holding negotiations with the Kekregka in secret now," he said accusingly.

"Because they want what the Kekregka can give them, and because you've made it clear that you're absolutely unwilling to allow that."

"We cannot permit these barbarians to acquire such technology independently."

"Threatening them will not accomplish that goal," Hyong said, and he waved a scolding claw at the Ambassador. "Nor will assigning irritable fools like Gaxahyeng to monitor their negotiations."

"Then what does my expert intelligence operative suggest is the appropriate action to prevent this transfer?" Hyarahek's nostrils flared in irony.

"You cannot," Hyong replied, and straightened his beret while waiting for Hyarahek to decide whether or not to start screaming. After the Ambassador had kept silent a moment, he went on. "Unless you want to destroy their entire world now, that is."

"Governor Shyankyang may consider it now after this development."

Hyong shrugged in the manner that the Humans had taught him, "Otherwise, the best you can do is attempt to prevent further deteriorations of the situation?"

Hyarahek leaned against his desk, tapping his claws, "And how do we do that?"

For a brief moment, Hyong wished his sense of duty was more relaxed. It would have been nice to tell Hyarahek to solve his own problems, and let the fool flounder and fail. But honor bound him too tightly, and it was his duty to serve his state and his race, no matter how much they might let him down in return. If Hyarahek still needed to be carried like an awkward pup to his destination, Hyong would accept the burden. At the very least, he could always drop the Ambassador into a ravine if he changed his mind later.

* * *

The Orrery was a gift from the Bats. A fully volumetric display, it was superior to any Earth planetarium, both in the quality of its images and the level of detail it could project. The Bats had claimed it would plot every object within 100 AU of the Sun, and thus far no astronomer had found anything which the Orrery missed. The orbital data weren't perfect and required constant updates from observatories, especially if anyone flew by with a warp ship, but it was still the most impressive astronomical tool Humanity had ever encountered.

And its greatest use was as a tourist attraction.

Plenty of Earth corporations, not to mention intelligence agencies, had wanted to take the thing apart to figure out how it operated, but the Bats had made their displeasure with that idea quite clear. At the same time, Earth couldn't risk using it for any serious official purposes, lest they allow sensitive conversations or material to be compromised by any spying equipment the Bats might have included.

Ultimately, it had become a permanent exhibit on the ground floor of the Earth Fleet Museum where it was open for public viewing in a large, circular auditorium. The auditorium could seat 200, and for the most part the Orrery ran through a standard program accompanied by a recorded narration. At the moment, there were only two people in the auditorium, and they were taking advantage of some of the Orrery's more advanced features.

Pascual Molinas spun a dial to slowly zoom out from the enormous gray sphere which hovered in the middle of the room. The sphere was a moon named Titania, a satellite of Uranus and home to the race of aliens Pascual called Tadpoles. The Tadpoles had only arrived less than three years ago, and no one on Earth had good enough information on their colony to even plot its location on Titania, much less display good imagery of it. If the OES dispatched ships there now, it would be the first opportunity they had to gather such intelligence. Titania continued to shrink in the display. The Tadpoles' massive warp ship did not appear in its orbit around the moon either; spacecraft were not included in the Orrery's data.

Uranus appeared in the display, first as a great blue hemisphere reaching from floor-to-ceiling, and then as a defined spherical body on its own right as the perspective continued to widen. Eventually, Titania was lost below the Orrery's resolution limit, and Uranus moved to the center of the display.

Pascual zoomed away faster now, and he entered a command which would deform the display's scale, exaggerating major objects to make them easier to locate and identify. Saturn and its iconic rings soon crept into view, and Pascual recentered and enlarged to focus on the next planet into the Solar System.

The gas giant filled the air of the auditorium, and Pascual swept the display around until he located Titan. The giant moon was an opaque orange haze, so he entered a new command into his controls. It had taken a while for the Orrery's human owners to figure out how to fully interface with the device's computers. Once they had gained full access to its database, however, the modifications had been easy. Brilliant blue highlights appeared beneath Titan's dense atmosphere. They marked habitats, factories, spaceports, and weapon emplacements. The weapons far outnumbered the other installations. Most of the habitats and industrial parks were clustered in on dense settlement while the weapons littered the entire surface, covering every possible approach to the moon. Each was a laser or particle beam of staggering size. Placed on Earth's moon, a single one had enough power to burn through the atmosphere and turn any of Earth's mountains into plasma. The Bats had transformed Titan into a fortress of frightening power, one worthy of the moon's namesake.

The Bats had arrived first in the Solar System, in 2045. They had settled originally on the Jovian moon Ganymede, where their colony had been defended by weapons just as powerful, but far fewer in number. When the Charterlings appeared in 2048, it took them three months to destroy the Bat colony and drive them from Jupiter space entirely. Forced to regroup on Titan, the Bats had learned their lesson.

Behind Pascual, the museum curator who had helped him access the Orrery's controls stood up to take a phone call. After a moment with a hand pressed to his ear, he stepped forward and tapped Pascual on the shoulder.

"I'll have to leave you for a bit, Mr. Ambassador. Please try not to break anything."

Pascual grunted an acknowledgment while the older man went out a back door.

He zoomed out more quickly now, and his simulated camera raced to the other side of Solar system, all the way across the Sun and inner planets to where Jupiter was waiting. While Titan had displayed a scattering of blue pinpricks, the Jovian moons floated in a cluttered jungle of red and yellow highlights. Ganymede and Callisto each sat at the center of a dense cloud of space stations, mostly orbital defense platforms.

The Charterlings' invasion had terrified the nations of Earth. Everyone had known that the Bats had weapons, powerful weapons, but no one had really thought the implications of that fact all the way through. Nor had the Bats been all that eager to encourage in humanity the notion that their species could be successfully challenged by any other. Their defeat at the hands of the Charterling colonial expedition had been the wake up call which finally shocked the nations of Earth into pooling their resources and founding Earth Fleet in 2050, and the Organization of Earth States a year later.

Yet if the Charterlings had shown humans fear, the Kyhyex had taught them desperation. Since the very first strike on the original Bat colony, their diplomats on Earth had been promising the humans that the atrocity would not go unanswered, that the Charterlings would pay. The Bats' vengeance had come in 2053, in the form of a fleet of "allied" ships escorting more colonists and supplies from the Bat homeworld. At the time, Earth didn't really know anything the aliens themselves beyond the name by which the Bats called them: Kyhyex.

Prior to 2053, all of the alien "military" ships humanity had seen had been essentially the galactic equivalent of armed transports or patrol boats, not serious battleships. But the Kyhyex had shown up with an actual war fleet: eight ships, the largest of them over two kilometers long. The first thing they had done was destroy the entire Charterling colony on Io, and with the same strike carve out enough of the moon's surface to leave a crater larger than the Valles Marineris on Mars. The Charterlings managed to coordinate their remaining defenses before they were utterly wiped out, and the Kyhyex departed a few weeks later. There had been no direct contact between them and Earth, but they had sent a message to humanity all the same. Earth Fleet could not hope to fight against such weapons. If it ever came to war with the aliens, any of them, Earth would lose, swiftly and completely.

Pascual didn't know if it was a testament to humanity's determination or its stupidity that 2053 was the year that most of the last remaining holdouts among Earth's nations joined the OES. That had done a little to boost Earth Fleet's morale, especially when Singapore announced that, in addition to acceding, it would be building its own space elevator to complement the one under construction at Quito.

The Kyhyex had returned in 2057 with their own colony ships and, thankfully, without the accompanying battlecruisers. They had planted themselves on Callisto and begun mining the Jovian moons themselves, despite the Charterling defenses harassing them every step of the way. A low-level war had been ongoing between the two races ever since.

Earth had at least managed to establish limited contact with Kyhyex representatives after their return. Unfortunately, the Kyhyex were not a very talkative bunch, nor was there ever much communication even when messages were exchanged. The best response the OES had ever managed to extract from the aliens about why they would return to the Solar System and settle on planets that put them in constant conflict with another species was because they "liked" this system, no further explanation was ever offered.

The Bats had said that the Kyhyex consumed large amounts of sulfur, which could be found among the Jovian moons in great supply. But sulfur wasn't exactly rare; it seemed odd to choose to endure so much death just so one could mine a particularly abundant source. One shouldn't try to comprehend the Kyhyex, the Bats had responded, they simply didn't think like normal animals.

Pascual shook his head. He was just zooming the Orrery's display out again when the door to the auditorium opened again. Pascual acknowledged the curator's return with another grunt, and began to pan the display over towards Mercury, the home of the final and in many ways the most troubling of the enigmas which humanity now confronted within its own Solar System.

"Excuse me, Ambassador Molinas?"

Pascual stopped fiddling with the Orrery controls, the curator sounded nervous.

"What's wrong, Jose?" Pascual asked, and turned around.

It was immediately clear what was wrong. The curator had not returned to the auditorium alone. He was standing next to an alien, a seven-foot-tall Bat who had his wings folded behind his back and was staring directly at Pascual.

Pascual got up out his chair and bowed slightly towards the Bat.

"Forgive me, Ambassador," the curator said, "but he asked to speak with you. I thought you would prefer to—"

"No no, it's okay, Jose. Of course I will speak with our guest. I think we should probably go back to my office, though."

The Bat returned Pascual's bow. "Here is just fine, Ambassador Molinas," he said, then turned to the curator. "Excuse us, please."

"Uh…" Pascual didn't know what to say, he hadn't meant returning to his office as a suggestion.

But the curator held up a hand, "It is all right. We're at low ebb anyway; I am sure the museum administrators will not mind if I close the Orrery off for a while to a private meeting of… men such as yourselves."

"Er, thanks," Pascual said, and the curator hurried back out of the door.

After it closed solidly, the Bat chuckled, and Pascual stared. He tried not to be too obvious about it, but chuckling was not a usual Bat noise. It also did not help that Pascual did not recognize this particular Bat. It was dark in the auditorium, and the Bat did not wear any distinguishing clothing, not even their usual beret.

"I suppose I should feel bad about taking advantage of the situation," the Bat said, and chuckled again. "But I have always wanted to use one of these without, ah, supervision."

He waved a clawed hand at the Orrery's projection, and began walking down the aisle towards the center of the auditorium.

Pascual cocked his head. "Well, the controls are over here," he pointed to the console in the little booth along the back wall of the auditorium.

The Bat ignored him, however, and walked straight down into the middle of the display. The visible portion of the Orrery's mechanism itself was a flat black cylinder, about three feet tall, which stood up like a raised stage with the auditorium seating ringed about it.

"We had one at my school," the Bat narrated, while Pascual wondered if he should be walking down the aisle after him. "I was always too worried about the instructors to have any fun with it. My friend, however, was a far less obedient pup."

The Bat put his arms out so that his hands were reaching into the space above the Orrery. The image of barren Mercury shuddered overhead. He made a gesture with both hands, and the camera sped away, back to the exaggerated view of every major planet.

Pascual raised an eyebrow, no human had ever been able to interact directly with the Orrery's display; the Bats had never implied it was even possible.

But this Bat reached out towards Jupiter and made a twisting motion with one hand. The camera raced back in to display only the gas giant and its moons.

"Oh, I see you have figured out how to create dynamic overlays. I don't think we included that in the interface we gave you, useful though." He made a fist with his claws and flicked his wrist. The cloud of highlights showing Charterling and Kyhyex installations disappeared. Intrigued, Pascual had followed the Bat down the aisle, and was now standing next to the alien, looking up at the Jupiter system overhead.

"I bet you haven't ever tried this, however." He made another series of complicated motions which caused the entire display to shrink downward, until the red planet and its moons were hovering at chest height only a few feet away. The Bat adjusted the scale for a few moments, until he seemed to get it just the way he wanted it. Then he reached out and grabbed one of the moons.

Literally, he grabbed it. Pascual's jaw dropped. The Bat had closed his claws around one of the little spheres, Pascual thought it was Europa but he wasn't certain, and plucked it from its position in the display. This was a level of interactivity of which no one had even dreamed the Orrery might be capable.

Pascual continued to watch in awe as the Bat rotated the display around with one hand while still holding the moon captive in the other. Then, most shocking of all, he flicked the little planetoid like a marble, sending it careening into Ganymede.

Both moons exploded, shattering into tiny molten pieces which showered down into the atmosphere of Jupiter, stirring up storms and blast waves, and onto their neighbors, producing plenty of new, impressive craters. The Orrery showed it all in bright, exquisite detail, an absolutely perfect simulation as best as the eye could tell. Pascual couldn't take his eyes off of the magnificent, and terrifying, scene.

"There's just something deeply satisfying about completely wanton destruction, isn't there?" the Bat asked.

Pascual blinked, "Um… in a sim, maybe—that's not permanent, right?" In the display, Jupiter's atmosphere was still roiling from the aftermath of the devastation.

"Oh, no," the Bat flicked his wrist again, and Ganymede popped back into existence, just as pristine as it had been a minute ago. "Just a simulation, as you say. Although I can't say I would be very sad to see the Charterlings eliminated in such a way."

Pascual shook his head, trying to recover from the shock of the moment and start thinking professionally again. "Earth will be very unhappy if you start blowing up worlds like that. Is that what this is about?" Pascual hoped he wasn't about to have to make an emergency phone call.

"No," the Bat said, and sighed, "forgive me, Ambassador. It was just something of a daydream I had never been able to fulfill."

"I see," Pascual said cautiously.

"What I would actually like to discuss are the secret negotiations your government is holding with the representatives of the Kekregka."

"The negotiations are not 'secret'," Pascual waved a hand to dismiss the notion. "We simply thought it in the best interest of harmony to conduct the conferences alone. Your people and the, ah, Kekregka, do not see eye to eye on many things." What Pascual meant was "we can't put your people in the same room as the Tadpoles without one or both of you throwing a screaming fit", but he politely did not say that.

"It is an academic distinction, Ambassador; the negotiations are closed to us. I will not say that our representatives are entirely blameless in this matter—"

Pascual snorted, not quite involuntarily. The Bat pretended he hadn't noticed.

"—but we are concerned by the development," he finished.

"My government understands your people's concern, ah… forgive me, but I do not believe we have actually been introduced."

"No," the Bat said, and he bowed again. "I am Hyong Yaheek, representing the Republic, at your service."

Pascual froze. "Ah, are you certain you should be here, Mr. Hyong Yaheek?"

"It's actually two names; so I am properly referred to as Mr. Yaheek by your conventions, not like most of my colleagues. And yes, I am quite certain I should be here."

Pascual filed away the little tidbit about the Bat's name for later use, but grimaced at the rest of what the alien had said. This was the Bat that Deputy Councilor Khatib had recommended be declared persona non grata after a revelation in the Venezuelan media that he had become romantically involved with a human woman. Chief Molinas was still mulling over the decision; the story hadn't really spread into the international news yet and no one in the government wanted to fan those flames right now. But if the press caught Pascual and the Bat meeting privately, that was exactly what would happen.

"Mr. Yaheek, then. I am sure you are aware of the controversy surrounding you in the local media. I don't think it is appropriate to be elevating your profile at this time by conducting negotiations through you. Perhaps you should return to your embassy."

"Nonsense," the Bat's wings unfurled slightly, and he made a slashing motion with one arm. "Hyarahek has authorized me to speak on this matter, I have a message concerning the arrangement your government is making with the Kekregka."

Pascual took a deep breath. He wanted to ask Yaheek to come back to his office, and they could talk there, secure from any prying eyes. But travelling there would risk being seen and recognized as well. He glanced to the auditorium's door, wondering how much time they would have before the curator returned or would have to start letting other people in again. Surely the older man would give them a warning first.

He sighed, "And what might that message be?"

"We will not object to the trade you wish to make with the Kekregka," he said, and Pascual's eyebrows rose in surprise. "We do not believe that you are fully ready to handle this technology, but we will not object if you take possession of it nonetheless."

"But?" Pascual asked, waiting for the catch.

The Bat nodded, "However, we must insist that if Earth does make this trade, that you allow a representative of my people to accompany your delegation to the seventh planet of this system and monitor the negotiations."

Pascual's eyes narrowed, "Mr. Yaheek, I don't think either my government or the Tadpoles—excuse me, the Kekregka—would take kindly to one your ships following along."

"Not a ship, Ambassador," the Bat said, "just a representative. Me, in fact."

"You're okay with the trade, but you want us to take you to Titania? You?" Pascual was incredulous.

"That is correct." He folded his wings in front of him with a satisfied look.

Pascual shook his head, "And I was worried about taking you along to my office."

"Excuse me?"

"Nevermind," Pascual waved the thought away. Then he sighed again. It was going to be a long day.

[Lorpius Prime]

Chapter 4

"Impact in twenty seconds, Captain."

Xi Feng looked up from her monitor to the tactical station, "Thank you, Lieutenant, but I think we can dispense with the countdown now."

"Yes, sir," Cheyo replied.

Xi Feng's eyes returned to the monitor, as did the eyes of everyone else on the bridge. The tactical officer was actually a few seconds off, since the video feed was coming from one of the defense platforms in geosynchronous orbit and had to be routed all the way to and around the moon before it reached the Uruguay. But in this case there was no need to picky.

The almost-live video from the platform's camera showed the bright streak of superheated metal in its last few moments as it plowed through the atmosphere. The artificial meteorite had been launched several hours ago from one of the Fleet's high-capacity linear accelerators on the moon. Other than a handful of maneuvering rockets which would have already burned off, it was essentially one enormous slug of solid iron.

The meteorite hit the ground, and a tiny encampment in the wastelands of northeastern Niger disappeared. From this angle, the fireball and cloud were simply amorphous smudges against the surface of the Earth.

"Target destroyed," Lieutenant Cheyo said, "looks like just over fifty kilotons in the end."

"Let's be sure to send our congratulations to the cannon jockeys," Xi Feng said over the light cheering and applause.

Perhaps around one hundred people had just died, although the true figure was probably far less. It was unlikely that anyone had an exact count before the strike was ordered, and now that it was over, it would be impossible to get one. Kinetic bombardments did not have as many nasty side effects as nuclear detonations, but they still didn't leave much in the way of remains.

Although Earth Fleet had been established for the explicit purpose of defending humanity against extraterrestrial aliens, the vast majority of its combat experience was against other humans on Earth itself. Space-based and even aerial intelligence gathering technology had remained largely stagnant during the first half of the 21st century. But humanity's tremendous investment in space technology and infrastructure after the arrival of the Bats had changed that situation. By 2053, the Great Jihad had been able claim almost uncontested dominance over a great crescent of failed states reaching from Northern Africa deep into Western Asia. Twenty years later, measured and determined pruning by Earth Fleet and OES nations had reduced it to a final devastated band of fanatic holdouts who could only operate freely in the remotest and most hostile corners of the world—and even that was being generous about the word "freely". The Fleet's ability to see them and hit them anywhere on Earth had left them broken and scattered, forced to operate as largely uncoordinated cells. And although they took refuge in the safety of crowded cities, that left them vulnerable to other forms of combat and intelligence. The end was nearing for that sort of scum, and Xi Feng was proud to be part of the organization which had made it happen.

"Ah, Captain, you're getting a priority comm request from L-COM."

Xi Feng frowned as she was dragged back into the real world. Her monitor was still showing the video feed from North Africa. Soon, gunships and soldiers would arrive, but that was out of the hands of the Fleet. Xi Feng switched it off. Then she turned to the communications station.

"Any clearance restrictions, Chief Vallejo?" The communications department only had two crewmen, making it the only bridge station for whom the watch ever fell to an enlisted man.

"There aren't any special flags, but it is a secure transmission, sir," Vallejo said.

"All right, give me a minute and I'll take it in the briefing room," Xi Feng said.

"Aye aye, sir," the Chief Petty Officer acknowledged, and promptly entered the appropriate commands on his console, effectively putting Xi Feng's call on hold.

Xi Feng unbuckled herself and pushed off lightly with the toes of one foot, propelling herself easily upward to grab the ceiling handles.

"The Bridge is yours, Lieutenant Cheyo," she announced.

"I have the bridge, aye sir," the tactical officer repeated back. Satisfied, Xi Feng climbed away from her chair towards the bridge exit.

The single biggest inconvenience of navigating a spaceship, to the minds of both Xi Feng and most other professional spacers, was the doors. It was still an absolute nightmare to move around one of Earth Fleet's original large warships. They were all constructed out of tiny cylindrical modules, a necessary design choice because each piece had had to be lifted into orbit aboard old chemical rockets. The hatches between each module were already small enough bottlenecks to free movement. But the long and difficult process of opening and closing each hatch slowed down travel times to such excruciating lengths that just about every crew of such ship left them open at all times, despite the safety risks if any compartment was opened to vacuum.

The Uruguay cruisers, at least, had been built in orbit, with no such constraints imposed on their construction. The halls and doors were all wide enough to allow two people to pass each other without too much trouble. But no one had yet come up with a good answer for opening doors.

Really, the trouble was that the engineers had continued to insist on breaking up ships into compartments which could be fully sealed off from the rest of the ship, thus making them survivable even in the event of catastrophic failure elsewhere. Xi Feng appreciated the concern for the lives of herself and her crew, but it really wasn't a practical philosophy. The Uruguay was only ever likely to experience two sorts of damage. One variety was the extremely minor kind, such as a small leak due to a micrometeorite strike. Damage of that kind would be survivable with only very light and simple hatches and emergency vacuum suits to buy time for repairs. The other kind of damage would be the sort involving a strike by a laser or particle beam of such power that it would shred the ship and kill everyone on board no matter where the blow landed. There was no in-between. Forcing her crew to deal with submarine-style hatches was just a waste of money and time.

With care that defied the speed of the action, Xi Feng caught the bar at the top of the hatch and swung herself through. She tucked in her legs and went through a reverse somersault once before grabbing the handles in the hallway on the other side and continuing on her way. A petty officer from the engineering department was working on some wiring in the hall, and he squeezed himself against a wall as she passed.

"I give you a nine-point-eight, Captain," he said, grinning.

"Back to work, petty officer," she said. She allowed herself a small smile, but made a note to keep an eye on the engineer, too much familiarity between captain and crew could be unhealthy.

The briefing room was not at all large enough to be its own separate compartment, but it still got one of the big heavy hatches at the entrance, for security rather than safety reasons. Xi Feng braced her feet against a bulkhead to push the hatch shut, and then seal it. That done, she floated over to the big monitor which took up most of one wall of the briefing room. It took only a moment for her to turn it on and call up the waiting connection from the comm menu, and then a few seconds more for the encryption to sync up.

The meaty face of Rear Admiral Blevins appeared on the monitor. He smiled at Xi Feng.

"Ah, good to see you again, Captain Lee. Sorry for the unannounced call." He folded his hands in front of his console's camera.

"Good afternoon, Admiral," Xi Feng said. On space deployments, Fleet units kept Greenwich Mean Time. "I'm sorry to keep you on hold for so long." She considered strapping herself down to one of the briefing room's chairs, but decided to remain hanging where she was for the moment.

Blevins brushed off her worry with a small wave. "I have new orders for you, Captain," he said, getting straight to the point.

"I haven't received any notices, is this something sensitive?" Xi Feng furrowed her brow; they were communicating under fairly light encryption codes for anything very secret.

"No, no, nothing like that," the Admiral shook his head. "I'm actually just giving you a heads up before you receive the official orders."

"I see."

Blevins chuckled, as it was clear that Xi Feng really did not see, but he couldn't have expected her to. "EarthCOM wants you back, Captain. The Uruguay is going to be relieved by the Bolivar in a few hours—they'll send you the official copy of your orders then, by the way. Uruguay will then report to Quito Station for assignment to First Fleet."

Xi Feng tried to keep her face clear of the mixed worry and excitement that she was beginning to feel. "May I inquire as to why we're being transferred, Admiral?" She thought she did a passable job of remaining calm.

Blevins still laughed, but probably more because of his personality than because he saw through Xi Feng's disguise. "You may, Admiral, but you're not going to get a good answer. I don't know," he shrugged. "Honestly, I think this came from Admiral Kozlov himself, so even EarthCOM probably doesn't know."

That didn't do anything for the pit in Xi Feng's stomach, but it didn't sound as if anything was likely to. She sighed, "Very well then, Admiral, it appears I have no choice. But is the Bolivar really the best choice to relieve us?"

"Actually, we think she'll probably do a better job," he said, then he waved a scolding finger at her. "I know all you young hands have it in for the Washington cruisers, Captain, but they're not that much less capable when it comes to death-dealing. Plus their radar cross-section will actually be better for your, ah, shadow, to lurk in."

Xi Feng nodded. The Russian assault shuttle had been holding its station almost perfectly behind the Uruguay for the last day. But most of the cruiser's bulk was along one axis, while the Washington class were nearly as broad as they were long. That would let the Russians have a much easier time of hiding.

"All right, Admiral, I'll have my navigators begin plotting a course. Thanks for the heads-up."

"You're welcome, Captain Lee. The Bolivar should come on station in just under three hours. I'm sure Captain Solomon will be happy to provide you with a more accurate estimate. Godspeed. L-COM out."

The feed died. Xi Feng shook her head, but the anxiety she felt was still growing. Why did EarthCOM, or Admiral Kozlov if Blevins could be believed, want the Uruguay back, specifically? Or was it that they, or he, wanted Xi Feng back? There was no point in worrying, but that didn't stop Xi Feng from doing it anyway. Still, she couldn't let the worrying get in the way of her duties. The crew needed to be informed, and the navigators needed to get to work. Xi Feng pulled herself back towards the briefing room hatch to begin the work of opening it again.

* * *

Pascual wasn't quite sure how it was that he was ending up in charge of the negotiations with the Tadpoles. Although he hadn't been willing to admit it to himself at the time, when he had first been brought in on the conferences, he had assumed it was just part of his uncle's nepotism. Pascual hadn't expected to actually have a leadership role in the negotiations. It made him more than a bit uncomfortable to realize how comfortable he had gotten taking advantage of so many of the perks of high government office while assuming very little of the responsibility.

But that was changing. Everyone else had innumerable other duties to manage at the same time, and Pascual was a fully accredited Ambassador-at-Large for the OES. Since he was the only one able to attend every meeting with the Tadpole delegation, he was the person with the best idea of how the talks were proceeding, and the only one who could provide continuity for the Tadpoles themselves. So he was now Earth's point man when it came to the Tadpoles. Pascual couldn't shake the suspicion that his uncle had planned that outcome all along.

"How much longer must we argue this, Ambassador?" the Tadpole across from Pascual sounded exasperated. "In the last three days, more than sixty of my fellows in the colony have lost their Enharg, and hundreds more are soon to follow. We cannot afford further delay!"

Pascual had quickly learned that one of the hardest parts of negotiating was always looking his counterpart straight in the eye, regardless of how he felt about the conversation. He was truly beginning to empathize with the Tadpoles, and it always left him slightly nauseated to think about how much suffering he was causing them by driving a hard bargain on Earth's behalf.

"Ambassador Rokden," Pascual said steadily, his voice betraying none of his conflicted emotions, "your people have my deepest sympathies, and those of my government. But above all, we must look to our own welfare. I am afraid that we simply cannot sell out the progress of our own species for the salvation of yours. If we are to give you what you want, then we must be compensated with the means to secure our own independence."

"Surely the weapon we have brought for you will greatly enhance the defensive capabilities of your planet!" Rokden protested, and threw up his arms. He had caught on to humans' body language with such rapidity; it was sometimes hard for Pascual to remember he was talking to an alien. "Our own analysis of your defenses says you have nothing like what we offer. Is this not progress?"

"Ambassador, my species is in its own race for survival, and we cannot afford to lose any time. The Mars colony would mean real improvements now." Pascual didn't even blink at the lie. There was still over a year before the first colonists were even scheduled to depart Earth, and that was assuming everything went perfectly with the habitat's initial setup. Still, he said the lines he needed say. "Even with the technical advisors you have agreed to lend us," he went on, "it will take years, perhaps decades, before we are able to produce such weapons of our own. If we are to mortgage our future for so long, it must be for far more than one simple weapon. We need more."

"What you ask for is not possible, Ambassador Molinas! Not possible! Do you have any idea how jealously the empires guard warp technology? Do you have any idea what my own people had to sacrifice to acquire it from the Charterlings?"

"Yet acquire it you did. Earth only wishes to wield the same technology itself."

Rokden made a slicing motion with one hand, as if slashing through Pascual's words.

"My government would never permit it. Even if they would, the others would do all they could to prevent it. They would smash both of our worlds to stop such a trade. Have you any idea how fragile the nature of your survival is? The deal you propose would shatter it in an instant if any of the others even we had even discussed it!" The Tadpole glanced to each side of the room, as if to make sure that the Bats had not returned again to listen.

Pascual didn't think the situation was quite as bad as Rokden was portraying it. From his conversations with Hyong Yaheek, it was clear that the Bats suspected Earth was demanding exactly what it really was from the Tadpoles. But although they certainly seemed unhappy about that suspicion, Pascual had never gotten the impression that they would go to the lengths that Rokden was suggesting in order to stop such a deal.

Pascual held out his hands, palms up, "This is the position of my government, Ambassador.

Rokden slammed a fist down on the table between them. His fist was not much smaller than Pascual's head, and he swung it with such force that it cracked the top of the wooden table. Pascual nearly jumped out of his seat, but managed to check the motion so that he only pushed himself back about half a meter. He could not conceal the shock on his face, however, nor the fear. A moment ago, he had been fascinated with how similar the Tadpoles were to humanity, now Pascual was worried that they might not have the same proscriptions against peaceful diplomacy, or shooting messengers.

"You are worse than Charterlings!" Rokden growled.

The door to the conference room burst open, and two members of the Executive Protection Service fairly leaped into the room wearing black combat suits and with weapons raised to their cheeks. They immediately pointed those weapons at Rokden. The Tadpole tilted his head at the sight, as if curious.

Pascual at least had the presence of mind to shout, "Put those guns down! We're fine! It's fine!" He waved at the security men, hoping to get their attention off of the alien ambassador before they killed him.

One of them finally seemed to get the message, and he lowered his gun, though only slightly, "Are you sure, sir?"

"Yes," Pascual squeaked, then swallowed. "Yes," he repeated. "Just a little excitement. Please, leave us."

The guards looked between Rokden and Pascual a few times before fully lowering their guns, "All right, sir. Sorry about that."

"It's no problem, no problem. Just, wait back in the hall, please."

The security men nodded, and left the conference room again. They closed the door much more gently than they had opened it. Pascual shook his head, and let out a deep breath.

"My apologies for that, Ambassador. I'm afraid you startled the guards."

Rokden nodded, "I must offer my own apologies, for destroying your table. I will of course replace it from my ship's stores."

"Uh, thanks," Pascual waved the offer away, "but it's not a problem. Really, don't worry about it."

A few moments passed where neither of them said anything, Rokden rubbed the hand he had used to break the conference table while Pascual tried to figure out how to restart the negotiations after their interruption. He was about to suggest they break for lunch when the Tadpole spoke again.

"I have been authorized by my superiors, Ambassador, to make a new offer. I still think it is too much, but you have left us with little choice, as I am sure was your intent." He looked Pascual in the eye for a second, and Pascual wondered if it was a glance of respect or disdain.

"We must negotiate as we see is best for our own interests, Ambassador," Pascual said, conceding nothing.

Rokden nodded again, and this time Pascual got the definite impression that the Tadpole was trying to make him feel guilty.

"We cannot offer you warp engines," he said. "I have told you this is impossible, and it is. We can, however, offer some of the devices which we use to simulate gravity on our spacecraft."

Pascual's eyes lit up, "Artificial gravity?" The military hadn't deemed that one a priority, but it was something that the civilian sector had been drooling over ever since it had been first demonstrated to humanity during first contact with the Bats.

"Yes. The mechanisms are not as complex as warp engines, but it is a similar technology."

It became even harder for Pascual to control his expression, but he managed, somehow, "That sounds more promising then, Ambassador."

Rokden sat up straight on his stool, and looked around again. "Because it is, however, such a trade must be done in secret. Our government may be willing to share this knowledge with you, but the others will be no happier than if we gave you true warp engines. Neither of us should be eager to risk their response if we are discovered."

It was Pascual's turn to nod. "All right, Ambassador," he said, "I'm pleased to see that we're making progress. I should bring this new proposal to my own officials for discussion. Hopefully we are not far from a deal. For now, however, I think we should break for lunch."

Pascual stood up and offered his hand to the Tadpole. They had become familiar with that human gesture as quickly as they had with others, but this time Rokden did not take Pascual's hand, nor did he get up from his seat. Pascual blinked, and withdrew his awkwardly hanging arm after a moment while Rokden looked up at him.

"Each hour I spend here, Ambassador, one more of my people on our colony is separated from his Enharg. Eat your lunch; speak to your superiors, both of these you must do. But I do not think I can stomach my stay here much longer, Ambassador. If your people will not help us, then I would rather return to my own and await the same fate. I hope you will tell me soon if this is what I should do."

Pascual stood very still for a minute or two, staring into the alien's huge black eyes. Then he gathered his few papers silently and left, for he had nothing to say.

* * *

Lavrentiy Kozlov was the only person Pascual knew who wore glasses. Corneal replacement surgery was so cheap and so widely available that nearly everyone took advantage of it. And for the tiny fraction of the population who could not because of some allergy or other condition, there was still a whole host of other options available. Glasses were relics out of old movies, something to wear at costume parties, not serious instruments of vision correction.

But whenever Pascual saw Kozlov reading anything, the Russian Admiral always had on a pair of reading glasses with thin gold frames that he kept in a jacket pocket. Pascual just shook his head slightly at the sight; he wouldn't have dared to ask the man to explain himself.

Councilor Durante was the first to put down Pascual's report. He tapped it absently a couple times with a stylus before speaking.

"All right," he said, "I know the space tech guys will go nuts over this, but do we really want to settle? Anti-gravity doesn't really get us much of anywhere."

"Rokden did say the technology is related to warp," Kozlov pointed out without looking up from his own copy of the report.

"Sure, but are we just going to take his word on that? Anyway, lasers are like light bulbs, but I think you'd agree it's a long way from one to the other."

Kozlov snorted in a laugh and smiled slightly. "It'd still put us a long way ahead of where we are with manipulating gravity now, which is nowhere. Unless one of the R&D Firms is working on something that I don't know about yet."

He glanced to his left at Wilhelm Trautmann, but the Financial Councilor just shrugged, "Nothing so far as I know, either. We really ought to create another department to keep tabs on the sciences, though. Dividing that sort of thing up between the Fleet and my office just isn't the best way to handle it."

That last bit had been directed at the Chief Executive, but Eduard Molinas waved Trautmann's words aside. "We can discuss changes to the bureaucracy later," he said. "And we can discuss changes which will make the Euros and Americans throw a tantrum after my term is done."

Trautmann sighed, but the issue was tabled for the moment. The Chief Executive went on, "All right, if we're not going to be able to get a warp engine from them, and the way the Tadpoles are talking to Pascual it sounds like we might have to accept that possibility, is there anything else we want? Something else that might be related but more useful than anti-gravity?"

"I should emphasize," Pascual said before anyone could answer, "that we may be reaching the limit of how far we can push them. At some point they're going to decide that we simply won't help them. Rokden sounded like he wanted to just go home himself."

"If we're the only ones that can help them, what choice do they have?" Trautmann asked. "They won't go home."

Pascual opened his mouth to respond to the Financial Councilor, but Durante beat him to the point, "They said we're the only ones that can help them, but only they know how true that is. If they come to the conclusion that we're asking more than they can give, it may convince them to pursue other alternatives that they'd been avoiding." Trautmann seemed skeptical, and Durante shrugged, "I don't think they're to that point yet, but I wasn't the one in the room." He nodded deferentially to Pascual.

Admiral Kozlov tossed the report down on the table. "I think we should take the deal they're offering," he said, and folded up his reading glasses before returning them to his pocket.

Everyone looked at him with slightly puzzled expressions. Pascual had thought the military man at least would want to hold out for more obviously military technologies, and everyone else had probably assumed the same.

"Why, Lavrentiy?" Eduard Molinas asked.

Kozlov shrugged, "I agree with your nephew's analysis, these Tadpoles are reaching the end of their patience with us. Let us help them for what they will give us now. Later, they will be grateful to us, and we may be able to secure more information in the future."

Durante frowned, "I don't know, Admiral. If this is all they need to get a self-sufficient colony operating, we might not get another chance to extract anything from them. They wouldn't need us anymore."

"Maybe, Councilor, but the intelligence we have been gathering suggests these aliens are significantly less advanced than the Bats. I think it is likely that we will continue to have much to offer each other. If we are generous now, their trust in us will be greater."

"You're going soft on me with all this talk about 'trust', Admiral," the Chief Executive laughed. "All right, I'm inclined to take the offer as it stands myself. How do we stand on being able to pay for the colony, Willy?"

The Financial Councilor grimaced, "Well, we're still in about the same place as last time so far as our funds go, but it looks like the fallout if we go ahead could be even worse. I talked with some of my friends at Lockheed and a few other places, and it turns out some people were overly optimistic when it came to designing the transports to carry colonists over. The company issued more bonds last week to pay for new ships."

Eduard Molinas sat up very straight, "What? Why didn't we hear anything about this?"

"Because they didn't tell anyone except the banks they sold the bonds to. Some of the member companies are under serious heat from their shareholders over how much they're exposed to this project." Trautmann shook his head.

"Isn't that illegal?" Pascual asked.

"Yes," the Financial Councilor answered, "and I've been debating whether or not to call the FSA on them. But if we go ahead with this, it's not going to matter, the colony will be toast. We can cover maybe a quarter of their outstanding debt out of our pocket, and if we want to borrow ourselves we could probably reach up to seventy-five percent no problem, unless of course the banks have even more loans off the books than I think they do. But that won't save the colony; we may kill the whole idea for another two decades."

"Won't getting their hands on the laser and this anti-gravity thing help, though?" The Chief Executive was starting to look worried.

Trautmann nodded. "Oh, certainly, I think most of the member companies will pull through all right. Lockheed and Finmeccanica aren't going to like how much debt they'll be in afterwards, but they should be able to sell their investors on these new toys just fine. Dassault is done for, though. Those pods for the Moscows were really their last chance, losing the Mars colony is just going to be what convinces their shareholders to pack it in at last."

"Would it be better if we waited?"

"No. If we're going to do this, we want to announce as soon as possible. The markets will take a hit—a big one—but it'll be worse if we wait and the colonial company does something else stupid in the meantime."

"All right, then, Willy. Assume we're going to go with the deal as it is, start putting the details together on your end, I'll have my communications people get in a room with yours."

"So, have we settled on this offer then?" Councilor Durante asked while Trautmann was making notes for himself.

"I think so, Bernardo," Eduard Molinas said, "unless anyone else has some more reasons to wait that we haven't considered?"

Durante shrugged in response, and Pascual shook his head.

"It's not all we hoped for, but I think we can make it work," Kozlov said.

"We'll go for it then. Pascual, you can tell Rokden, but hold off until we've worked out more of the details of what we'll tell the public and what we want the wording of the final agreement to look like. Bernardo, that's going to be mostly your job."

"Yes, Chief. I think we can have something by tomorrow morning," Durante nodded confidently.

"Good. Any other business?"

"There is one thing, Chief Molinas," Kozlov said. The Chief Executive raised one eyebrow while the Admiral straightened up in his chair and took out a piece of paper from a folder. "I wonder if I could interest you in visiting Singapore sometime in the next few days…"

[Lorpius Prime]

Chapter 5

Xi Feng had not had to withstand any kind of serious gravity field in four years. In February of 2069 she had departed from Quito to Earth Fleet's shipyards to take command of the Uruguay for its maiden flight. It had been the vindication of her entire career; sixteen years spent clawing her way up the Fleet's chain of command. Even in an organization whose personnel requirements had been nearly doubling every five years, it was quite an achievement.

Four years ago had been her last time on Earth. But Xi Feng had not been to her home since 2053, the year she had left for the Fleet Academy. Xi Feng had known she wanted to join the Fleet since the day she had heard of its creation. It had only been her good fortune that Singapore had joined the OES the year she passed her A-level. Before the news came, Xi Feng had been making preparations to defect to Indonesia so that she could join up. But the Kyhyex's show of force had led to the downfall of the pro-Russian SDA government, the return of the PAP, and accession to the OES. Instead of defecting, Xi Feng had become the first Singaporean Earth Fleet Cadet.

Her government had been all too happy to hold up Xi Feng as a poster-child of the "new" Singapore, a symbol of the tiny nation's commitment to Earth. Xi Feng's parents had been less happy. Her family had deep roots in Singaporean politics, and Xi Feng's father especially had been expecting her to join that tradition. He was a member of parliament from the PAP himself, so he'd gritted his teeth and smiled for the photographs along with everyone else; but in private, his disappointment had been very clear. Part of it, Xi Feng suspected, was that she'd caught him off-guard. The mountains of science fiction stories which filled her bookshelves had obviously failed to tip her parents off to her plans. Afterwards, however, she was reasonably certain that they had figured out her plans to leave Singapore. They'd never spoken about it, but Xi Feng's relations with her family had cooled ever since.

So she'd never been home again. Her parents had come to Houston for her graduation, of course, but mostly so father could keep up appearances. But after that, Xi Feng had gone into space, into service for her planet, her species, her self, and nothing else. She had no regrets, and she probably wouldn't be coming back at all now, if it hadn't been for the invitation she'd received.

It was more like an order, anyway. One didn't refuse an invitation from the supreme commander of Earth Fleet. The Uruguay had been in a parking orbit near Quito station for two days before Xi Feng had received the invitation. Her ship had technically joined First Fleet under EarthCOM, but it hadn't been integrated into any divisions or joined any maneuvers. So they had sat for two days with nothing to do while all of Xi Feng's best attempts to penetrate the bureaucracy and get straight answers from her superiors had been rebuffed. She hadn't even been able to get clearance to grant leaves to her crew. The grumbling had been minimal thus far, which was no small mercy. But it was painful for anyone to be locked onboard that close to the home world, unable to get time groundside, but without any actual orders either. The crew was unhappy, and Xi Feng didn't blame them one bit.

It wasn't in the official job description, but a ship captain had a responsibility to look after the welfare of her crew, and that often meant dancing around official restrictions. Working the system like that was not openly encouraged, but it was necessary. A ship's company could get royally screwed otherwise. And if a Captain allowed that to happen, she wasn't worthy of her position. So the total lockdown on Uruguay's orders and crew was leaving Xi Feng more than a bit angry, with herself as much as with Earth Fleet.

The elevator was nearing the halfway point between its orbital anchor and the Singapore base station, and Xi Feng was beginning to feel the effects of actual gravity. It wasn't nearly so strong as the force which the Uruguay's engines could exert with plasma rockets at full burn, but it would be a constant effect, and Xi Feng would have to walk against it, rather than letting an acceleration chair support her weight. The fact that the elevator was very nearly in free fall helped, some, but that wouldn't last long. Outside the climber's thick windows, she could see the edges of its enormous atmospheric brake beginning to glow with the heat of friction.

The brake expanded and engines kicked into action. Xi Feng could feel her weight growing by the second as the climber's descent slowed enough for its motors to engage the elevator's tether.

Xi Feng was sitting in the climber's passenger section, which was tiny relative to the machine's enormous cargo bay. It still came equipped with windows that covered almost the entire outer wall of the compartment, giving everyone inside a breathtaking view of planet Earth. All of Northern Asia was spread out before Xi Feng, slowly rising up to meet her.

The view was nothing like what one might expect from watching movies. Even now, too many special effects designers liked to depict most of East Asia as a black and barren wasteland, just as they would the western half of North America. The reality was far less bleak. From space China, Japan, and the American west coast all looked just as green and lush as anywhere else on the globe.

But cultural memory was a powerful thing. People were familiar with the lifeless deserts and desolate cities which they saw in their historical documentaries as much as in their entertainment. They expected the emotions they felt about those places to be reflected in photographs and videos no matter how distant the camera. And no filmmaker in her right financial mind would dare attempt to defy expectations.

Xi Feng's family had settled in Singapore over two hundred years ago. Prior to that, they had lived in the southern Chinese provinces of Guangdong and Fuijan. The Chinese government's final census in 2024 had counted over 150 million people living in each of those provinces. In 2073, the best estimates of the OES put the combined figure at less than one million. Greater than eighty percent of the difference had died in the war and its aftermath. The rest had left in the decades afterward, fleeing from a poisoned land.

No one called it a world war, it had happened too fast for many countries to get involved. The Chinese claimed from the very beginning that it had been started by the Americans. Most historians agreed; some overenthusiastic SAM operator had launched on Chinese warplanes engaged in training exercises that strayed too close to a US Navy fleet in the Taiwan Strait. Five days later, as American bombers were flattening Beijing and their government was still trying to figure out just what it had gotten itself into, the first missiles were launched. That first flight of nukes landed on the American and Canadian west coasts, subsequent flights destroyed most of Japan, Taiwan, and the American Navy's Pacific infrastructure. The Chinese strategic missiles performed beyond their makers' wildest expectations, nearly a fifth of the American population perished. The Chinese government celebrated for less than an hour before the American retaliation obliterated their country.

The Straits War began in 2027 without any kind of official declaration, and it ended 102 hours later without a formal peace. Even had the American government cared, there was nothing left for it to make peace with. The world war began a week later.

It started when North Korea invaded the dazed and battered south. That first episode also saw the use of nuclear weapons, and the North quickly overran the South. The conquest lasted little more than a year, however, before the bloated and chronically incompetent government collapsed in on itself and cast the Korean peninsula into a new period of bloody turmoil. The chaos lasted until the spring of 2030, when the Russians finally intervened, crushing the competing juntas to impose a unified, orderly, and even somewhat democratic government.

Things were worse on the other side of the continent. Southwest and Central Asian regimes, having lost most of their external financial and political backers, toppled one after the other. More often than not, they were replaced by nothing and no one. Russian soldiers staved off total collapse in a few countries after receiving a sweeping mandate from the United Nations Security Council and the "invitation" of a few teetering governments, but even the Russian army could not be everywhere at once. Most of the Arabian Peninsula and North Africa were lost to anarchy and intractable clan warfare. When the brutal fanatics of the Great Jihad began surging out of Egypt and the Sudan, many people were more relieved than horrified. The Mujahideen's preferred form of slaughter was at least orderly and predictable; one need only become a fanatic oneself in order to avoid their sword.

By the early 2040s, Xi Feng's own Singapore was facing crisis. The desperate situation in China had quickly spilled over into Southeast Asia. None of the countries there could deal with the absolute sea of refugees pouring into their territory demanding food and shelter. Vietnam attempted to close its borders in 2029, and quickly found itself fighting a war against remnant units from the PLA supported by a flood of mostly unarmed refugees. In Laos and much of Burma, government gave way to mobs with an appetite for ethnic cleansing. In 2035, the year Xi Feng was born, the slaughter was reaching a fever pitch. The Thai government, under pressure from the refugee hordes in the north and militant converts to the Jihad in the south, transformed itself into a state which recalled the darkest days of the twentieth century. Singapore was the only surviving nation in the world with a majority Chinese population, and it was in a region where Chinese were increasingly viewed as the enemy.

Nine years later Xi Feng remembered crying in her room while her parents argued outside. Xi Feng's mother wanted the family to leave. The Malaysian army was encircled at Kuala Lumpur and a spearhead of vicious Thai soldiers was knocking on the gates of Singapore. No one was sure if the Indonesian government was going to survive a widespread revolt attempting to claim the country's islands for the Jihad. Xi Feng's father insisted that the situation was not so bad as it seemed, and that anyway negotiations with the Australians would soon succeed and that country would come to Singapore's defense.

Salvation did come the next year, but not from Australia. In 2045 an international pressure group, mostly supported by European activists, finally convinced the Indian government to drop its support for the murderous regime in Thailand. While the Bats arrived in the Solar System unnoticed and began to colonize Jupiter's moons, Russian marines were seizing Bangkok. Australia did intervene that year, too, but only with peacekeepers to stabilize Indonesia. In Singapore, the government breathed a sigh of relief, and then squawked as it was voted out of power for entrusting its defense to unreliable Western nations.

A loudspeaker in the climber's passenger compartment buzzed, "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Singapore. Welcome to Earth."

Xi Feng blinked. She had gotten so lost in her thoughts that she hadn't even noticed most of the journey down. As awareness returned, she realized how ragged her breathing had become. She sighed, and took a few moments to relax her diaphragm and begin taking slow, deep breaths. She leaned her head back to look up through the transparent ceiling at the blue sky above. Although everyone just called it the Singapore Elevator, the installation's official name was the Singapore-Johor Memorial Sea- and Spaceport. The name was intended to recall the forty-four members of the Republic of Singapore Air Force who died defending the city from 2044 to 2045 after the bridges to Johor were detonated. The elevator's tethers stood out against the sky as eleven thin black ribbons which stretched up towards the heavens and disappeared.