CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER ONE
The Rindhalu heavy cruiser Spear of
Rantaloss hung motionless in space, relative to the Jeraptha Ethics and Compliance Office ship Will Do Sketchy Things, both ships
having completed exhaustive sensor
sweeps of the battle area. To describe the action that took place there as a
battle was inaccurate; it was a
slaughter. The senior surviving officer of the ECO ship We Were Never Here was Commander
Zilleen Fentenu, and she did not
have anything useful to report. The second group of Jeraptha ships that were awaiting transfer to the humans, had been ambushed by
an overwhelming force of Maxolhx warships
without warning. All of the ships designated for transfer were systematically
destroyed, along with the star carriers they were attached to, and
their front-line escort vessels.
The attack had been a complete shock, but what truly concerned
Captain Uhtavio Scorandum
of the Ethics and Compliance
Office was, why had the humans never arrived at the rendezvous point? They were supposed to meet the second
group of ships, to take possession, and guide the star carriers to the remote inaccessible forward operating
base the humans had established at the edge of the galaxy. If the human ship Valkyrie had suffered a horrible fate, the balance of power in the
galaxy might abruptly change again.
Scorandum’s head was still spinning from learning that humans were flying the
fearsome ghost ship, and that humans had a cache
of Elder weapons.
The most shocking news of all was that humans had been flying
around the galaxy
for years, doing
all kinds of awesomely sketchy things, without ECO being involved or
even knowing humans were players.
Clearly, the Ethics and Compliance Office needed to seriously step up its game.
“Captain Scorandum,” the Rindhalu official representative aboard the
advanced-technology warship glared,
as she appeared on the bridge display of the Will Do Sketchy Things. “We demand an explanation!”
“Yes, thank you,” Scorandum
breathed an exaggerated sigh of relief.
“Excellent, then- Wait, what?”
“We also demand an explanation for this outrage,” Scorandum shook his head
sadly. “When you
get that explanation from the devious Maxolhx, please pass it along to
us.” “From the-” The spider’s
hideous mouth gaped open.
“We also wish for an apology.”
“The Maxolhx do not apologize to any-”
“You misunderstand me. We wish for an apology
from you.”
“From us?” The spider screeched. Even through the translator, the sound made Scorandum’s
leathery skin crawl.
“Of course. Under
our mutual-defense treaty,
you are required
to defend us against
attacks by your counterparts. This was a direct assault by a senior
species force, against a second-tier client species of your coalition. You failed to protect
us.”
“Aaargh!”
“No doubt you are deeply ashamed
by your failure,
and will compensate us by-”
“Captain Scorandum! The explanation we
demand is how a group of your ships came to be here, after we expressly forbid
you to transfer more ships to the humans,
and after you claimed this
same group of ships was mysteriously stolen.”
“Oh? It seems fairly obvious
to me.”
“It seems obvious to us,
also. We await your apology.”
“An apology from us?” Scorandum’s
main antennas dipped low over his
eyes. “Clearly, the
Maxolhx stole those ships.”
“The- You are claiming the Maxolhx stole the ships from you, then brought them all the way
here, before destroying them?
That makes no sense!”
“The methods of the enemy are inscrutable, certainly,” the ECO captain
sighed. “That is why we depend
on our exalted patrons the Rindhalu, to warn us of impending danger, and to protect
us. Which, I am reluctant to mention
again, you failed to do.”
“Aaargh! If the ships were indeed stolen from you, then please explain
why one of your ships, the We Were Never
Here, was found among the wreckage.”
Scorandum blinked. “Well,
that also seems fairly obvious.”
“Really?” The spider’s voice dripped with scorn.
“We await your rationale for that.”
“Clearly, Commander Fentenu of the We
Were Never Here discovered the theft in progress, and bravely followed
the enemy here, to determine
their intentions. Sadly,
the heroic efforts of her crew
were unable to overcome the heinous perfidy of the enemy. Before she could
report her findings to you, her ship was destroyed.”
“That is your story?” The spider was incredulous.
“Honored Representative, I do not see any other possible
explanation.” “You do not?”
Scorandum shook his head, his antennas flopping side to side. “No.”
“How about this: those ships were never stolen. They
were here, waiting for the humans to meet you,
but instead the Maxolhx discovered your plan, and destroyed the ships before
the humans could use them against all of us.”
“That is a shocking and hurtful accusation,” Scorandum hung his head, his antennas drooping. “It also does not
account for the facts.”
“What facts?”
“If the humans
were supposed to meet us here, where are they? We found no evidence
any human
ship was ever here.”
“Well-” The spider’s eyes blinked.
“I mean, unless you found evidence that the humans
were here, and chose not to share
that
information with us?” “We did not-”
“Perhaps,” Captain Scorandum glared at the image on the display, “your
people wished to make sure those
ships were not available for transfer, so you stole the ships, then gave the Maxolhx their
location. Let your counterparts do your dirty work for you.” “How
dare you?” The Rindhalu official raged. “We-”
“Right now, I do not know what to
believe. It appears the only thing the two of us can agree on, is that
your people failed to live up
to your treaty obligations.”
“That is not-”
“Honored Representative, I am not accusing your people of acting in bad faith.
Not yet.” “You had
better not be-”
“It is possible that simple incompetence on
your part is responsible for this tragedy.”
“AAARGH!” The spider’s image disappeared as the transmission was cut.
Scorandum cut the feed
from his end, turning
to his second in command. “Kinsta, are we caught in
a damping field?”
The officer checked his console to verify. “No, Sir. We are not actually
waiting for a formal
apology, are we?”
“No. Jump us the
hell out of here. I don’t want to push our luck.”
“Dad?” Dave Czajka called softly as he stepped
out the sliding glass door into the backyard.
His father was supposed to be watching the grill, making sure the
bratwursts didn’t burn. Instead, he had stepped off the deck and onto the grass, staring up at the sky. It was near sunset of a pleasant
day. The sky was free of clouds other than high-altitude contrails of
jetliners headed south. All the planes
flying south were full. The northbound legs, mostly empty, were being diverted
around the heavily traveled
routes, to clear airspace for the southbound
flights that were earning
money.
“What are you looking at?” Dave asked,
when his father didn’t respond.
Using the tongs, his father pointed at a white streak
to the northeast. At the front of the contrail, sunlight glinted briefly off the aircraft,
a flare of gold.
“What do you think?” His father asked. “Winnipeg to Cuba, with a stop in
Chicago?” “Chicago?” Dave squinted at the high-flying jet, then turned
toward the south,
where Chicago
was unseen over the horizon of the suburbs of Milwaukee. “No. If they
have to refuel, they’ll do it in Atlanta, probably.”
The plane had to be packed
with Canadians, fleeing
to Cuba, or somewhere
in the Caribbean.
Some place that
would still be reasonably warm, when the planet began to freeze. He knew the flight, assuming it originated in Canada,
could not be destined for Florida, or any other traditional US destination
for sun-seeking Canadians.
The United States had banned non-citizens from residing in, or even visiting,
anywhere in the country that was
below the 37th parallel, a line just north of the border between
Virginia and North Carolina. That
southern area was filling up with Americans who were already emptying out the northern
cities, a steady trickle that
was becoming a flood.
Cuba, Venezuela, and a handful of other Latin American countries had
opened their borders to Canadians,
and citizens of the EU and Britain. Many countries in Africa had programs to
accept people from northern climates.
Refugees were welcome provided they had cash,
and plenty of it. Enough money
deposited in a local bank, to pay for housing and food and medical care for
five years. Plus a ‘temporary
citizenship’ payment that was increasing in price every month, as the value of currencies around the world plunged.
Americans did not have the option of going to Cuba, and at first, found
they were unwelcome south of the US
border. Until the government in Washington struck a bargain with Mexico, Columbia, Ecuador and others, to provide
cash payments and other direct assistance. Crossing the Rio Grande southbound was still limited to Americans and
Canadians who already owned property in
Cabo, Cancun and other tourist destinations. Or those who were willing to buy
property without seeing it first, which many were happy and even eager to do.
The northern US states were emptying out, despite the federal government
urging calm, and the predictions of scientists that it would be years before the first effects
of the cloud could be felt, and years
more until the climate
fell into a miserable Little Ice Age.
Or perhaps more than a Little Ice
Age. No one knew for sure. There wasn’t enough data, nor were climate models on Earth set up to account
for a rather sudden and unprecedented decrease in sunlight reaching
the surface.
“Hmm,” his father grunted.
“Good luck to them, then. Lucky bastards,” he added under his breath.
Then he looked at his son and smiled. “More poutine for us, right?”
“Right, Dad,” Dave forced
a grin. There were a lot of forced smiles
going around, people
literally
trying to put a brave face in
spite of the looming disaster.
His father sighed, looking
up again, this time at nothing. “A clear sky. We won’t be seeing many of
those once the cloud gets here. That’s what they say.” Shaking his head, he
walked over to the grill.
“The cloud will just look
like a hazy summer day. Nothing we can see up
there, just the Sun a little less
bright than usual.” He held the
tongs up and clicked them, before picking up a brat to
check it.
“Hard to believe that will freeze
the whole planet,” Dave agreed. “Dad, did you and Mom talk
about-”
“Texas? Yes. Hey, hand me those
onions.”
Dave picked up the tray of
onions and set it next to
the grill.
“You gotta cook these slow,”
his father imparted
wisdom learned from his father. “You want to
caramelize them just a bit, not burn
them. It’s a fine line.”
Dave knew his father was talking about grilling onions, to avoid talking
about something more important. “I know.
Dad, Steve called me this afternoon,
he-”
“We know.”
There wasn’t anything to be said, that hadn’t already been said. Over and
over. His parents had to make the decision
on their own. They were adults.
So why did Dave feel responsible
for them?
His older brother Steve lived near San Antonio. The day after the
announcement about the cloud, Steve
called to invite, no, urge their parents to come down to live with him. It
would be a tight fit, Steve had two
children in a three bedroom house, and his wife’s aunt was already coming to
stay for at least several months.
“Your mother,” his father said as he slowly placed
onions on the grill. “Said
the dealership took an RV on
trade-in for a truck last week. Twenty-five feet,
something like that. It needs a
new
transmission, and some other work.”
“I don’t mind wrenching, you
know that.”
“Dropping a tranny
and putting in a new one is more
than wrenching. But, thanks.” “You’re
getting it? The RV?”
“We might.”
Dave knew that meant his parents had made the decision.
“The dealership is scaling back,” his father continued. “They gave your
mother a notice for her last two weeks, yesterday.”
That made sense, even if it made Dave angry. His mother had worked at the
dealership for twelve years, and now managed the parts department.
Now they were letting her go.
He knew he shouldn’t be upset. No one was buying cars anymore. Trucks,
maybe, and few of
those. People weren’t buying motorcycles either, the Harley-Davidson
plant announced a furlough, but
everyone knew the place was shutting down. Who wanted to ride a motorcycle
while the planet froze?
“What about
your job?” Dave asked.
Ed shrugged. “Power demand is down nine percent already, compared to last
year.” His father worked as an engineer
for the local electric utility. “The company tells us people will need power to heat their
homes but,” he waved tongs
to point out the houses around
them. Every week,
more of those homes were abandoned. “No need for heat around here, if
no one is at home. There’s talk about power plants up north feeding energy demand down south but, that’s only
temporary.
Transmission
losses across that distance make it impractical. Now, San Antonio? They’ll be expanding the grid down there. Always need
engineers. Your mother is worried but, I’ll find work. Son,” his father looked directly at him for the first time.
“We’d like you to come with us. Steve plans
for us to park the RV in his backyard, for your mother and me. You can use his
camper, for a while.”
Dave kept the grimace he felt from showing on his face. He was familiar
with his brother’s camper, it was a
pop-up unit, barely big enough for two people. That was OK, all he would be doing was sleeping there, and not for
long. As soon as his parents were settled in Texas, he would be- What? Contacting the Army, probably. After he found out what Jesse
and Shauna were doing.
“Sure thing, Dad. When do we leave?”
“Well, we can’t sell the house,”
he pursed his lips. “Nobody’s
buying, not around
here. We’ll
drain the pipes,
board up the windows, see about-” “Dad.
I’ll help.”
“Thanks.
I’m going to miss this place.” “Me too. Uh, that bratwurst is burning.”
“Oh, darn it,” Ed snatched it off the grill with the tongs. “I’ll hide
this one on the bottom of the pile. Don’t tell your mother.”
