Starshine: Aurora Rising Book One Read online

  Mia Requelme fit the bill perfectly: a feisty young entrepreneur striving for more rarified heights. He admitted to being a bit surprised she’d agreed to come to Pandora…but he supposed any ghosts she harbored were by now either dead or long vacated.

  Over a decade ago she had been a street rat here—a hacker and thief working for Eli, a lieutenant in the Triene cartel. Noah had looked out for her when he could, though his resources were pretty meager back then. Then one day she had simply vanished. He’d feared she was dead, especially since most of Eli’s operation got taken out around the same time.

  But two years later she contacted him out of the blue, searching for some specialized items. Come to find out she had gotten away, gotten out from under Eli—somehow—and was running a home tech supply business on Romane. She ran a good deal more than that now.

  He found her at the bar, slender legs crossed beneath a midnight black dress and significantly exposed by the slit which cut up it. A mane of even darker razor-straight hair fell across a toffee-hued shoulder. She sipped on a martini and scanned the crowd for him. Her mouth curled up ever so slightly when she spotted him.

  He slid in beside her and dipped his chin in appreciation. “You are looking most stunning this evening, Mia.”

  Her tongue ran lightly along subtly glossed lips. “What can I say, I clean up well.” Her gaze ran over him appraisingly. “As do you. I must admit, you are cutting quite a striking figure yourself these days.”

  His grin sported a wicked flair as he accepted the drink the bartender placed in front of him with a nod. “I do try. So how is business on Romane?”

  “Profitable. How is business on Pandora?”

  “…entertaining.”

  She laughed, but her eyes were serious; then again, he remembered, they almost always had been. “I guess we’ve both gotten what we wanted.”

  “I guess so.” He slipped the interface, secured in a small case, out of his jacket pocket and into her hand. She’d paid him upfront so there was no need for an exchange of credits. It disappeared into a small black bag made of the same shimmery material as her dress. “Dare I ask what you intend to use this for?”

  “I have an Artificial. I imagine it’s clear what I intend to use it for.”

  “Hmm. Is it registered?”

  She regarded him over the top of her martini in a manner indicating she questioned either his intelligence or his sanity.

  He gave her a mild chuckle. “Right. Silly of me to ask.” His own eyes grew serious—briefly. “Just be careful, okay?”

  She signaled the bartender for another drink. “Noah, darling, I am always careful. I value the life I have now quite highly.” After the bartender departed she shifted to face him. “So, what do we do now?” The glimmer in her eye suggested she had something in mind.

  Though she was only a year or two younger than him, back when she had lived on Pandora he’d thought of her as a little sister; someone to be protected. The times he had seen her in the years since had been friendly but businesslike, and brief. Now, though…she clearly no longer needed protecting, and appeared more than his equal. And my god but she was a stunner.

  He smiled, this time with a wicked flair of another sort, and leaned into the bar and closer to her. “I tell you what. First, I’d like to buy you dinner. Then, perhaps a little dancing. And later, if all goes well, I’ll show you a side of Pandora you never got to see when you were living on the streets.”

  She arched an eyebrow, but her lips curved gracefully upward. “Oh? And where might that be?”

  “My apartment, of course.”

  35

  SIYANE

  SPACE, NORTH-CENTRAL QUADRANT

  * * *

  CALEB LAY ON THE COT and stared up at the ceiling, barely visible in the dim light. He wanted to hit something. Anything. Instead he stared at the ceiling.

  For one, hitting anything—the wall for instance, or one of the tables—would result in a loud noise sure to bring her running. And he did not want to bring her running. It had been late into the evening when, scarcely able to keep her eyes open, she had finally retired downstairs and given him the solitude, the space to think, he desperately craved. For another…well, that was plenty reason enough.

  A portion of his brain busily formulated a plan to get to Seneca. Despite the dramatic nature of the report, he worried his government didn’t truly understand the seriousness of what they were facing. He had discussed the situation with the leader of the investigation team heading to Metis, a Major Fergusson. The guy seemed sharp enough, if a typical special forces type. Still, he needed to be there, else they were liable to get everyone killed. Or worse, with no one reminding them to keep their eye on the ball, get distracted again by the bloody war and lose sight of the real threat.

  He groaned to himself. He was a patriot, as far as it went, but it wasn’t as though he cared for politicians, bureaucrats or military leaders. The war was idiotic, a fool’s errand likely to end in tragedy for far too many involved. Or worse—again—a trap they had all been ensnared in, one certain to leave them easy pickings for the aliens when they showed up to feast on humanity.

  He felt like a traitor, relaxing here on this ship while others ventured out to confront an unimaginable threat. Granted, he was the one who had alerted them to it. But he should be doing more.

  After six days on the ship he was familiar with the functions of the vast majority of the controls and screens. He at most required her very minimal input to fly wherever he desired. He had no doubt he would be able to force her into providing him access to the controls, and without even harming her—assuming she didn’t fight him like a possessed hyena.

  Which she would.

  Thus, in order to take control of the ship and get himself to Seneca or even an independent world, he’d probably need to hurt her.

  And he didn’t think he could do that.

  No matter how angry at her he was right now—which happened to be quite angry—he didn’t wish to cause her harm. He understood she had legitimate reasons for acting as she did. And though she clearly bore personal animosity toward the Senecan government if not its people specifically, he doubted she actively wished them ill. She was doing what she thought was necessary. It simply happened to conflict rather directly with what he thought was necessary.

  He definitely didn’t want to hurt her. But more to the point, he wasn’t at all sure he was even capable of doing so…

  …because he was emotionally compromised. Badly.

  His training, his rules of engagement, his experience and the teachings of his superiors and his mentor all told him he should take control of this vessel and use it to get wherever he needed to go. Only he wasn’t going to do it.

  Another in an already fairly long line of rules discarded in the face of Alex Solovy.

  Two hours later he still lay awake. He pondered the nonsensical, suspicious events leading to this new war and how they might have occurred; he considered his options going forward. But mostly he brooded about the alien ships at their portal and the dark feeling of dread which had taken up permanent residence in his gut since witnessing them.

  He heard her come up the stairs, her steps slow and a bit uneven. She didn’t come over right away; it took a minute before her faint outline appeared on the other side of the privacy screen.

  “Caleb, are you awake?”

  He considered whether to let his muscles tense, to confront her again or to hide behind feigned sleep. But the situation would be no better come morning.

  “No.”

  There was no breath of amusement in response. “I’ll drop you on Romane tomorrow.” Her voice sounded flat and toneless, belying the significance of her words. “It’s the last independent world still somewhat nearby. I’ve shifted our route and input the new destination.

  “I’ll have to backtrack a bit, but…it’s fine. I’ve been able to put the report in front of some ‘important’ people on Earth, so they can wait another day for me. We s
hould be at Romane by late morning. Of course you can take a hardcopy of the data and the report when you go.”

  He pulled the screen back, leaned against the wall beyond the edge of the cot and attempted to meet her gaze. Her eyes were so sleepy and unfocused it was difficult. Her hair was a tangled mess, tumbling to cover half her face and down over bare shoulders. She wore a white tank and navy shorts; the dark material was wrinkled and hung unevenly above her frankly remarkable legs.

  He wanted very much to hug her. Instead he softened his expression. “Why did you change your mind?”

  She gave him a tired, half-hearted smile. “Turns out I’m not very good at keeping prisoners.” She couldn’t keep up the smile, and it faded away. “I understand why you feel you need to go home—I understand you need to help protect your people. And you don’t owe me anything so….”

  “Only my life.”

  She made a valiant effort at rolling her eyes. “True, but I did try to kill you before I saved you, so it’s likely a wash.” She started toward the stairwell, but not before a sad, almost desperate shadow passed across her expression. “I’ll let you get some sleep. I just…thought you’d like to know.”

  “Alex, why did you really want me to go to Earth with you?”

  The words had spilled forth unbidden…and the answer suddenly seemed the most important words in the universe.

  In her weariness she revealed a series of pained, frustrated emotions in her eyes and the quirking of her lips. Finally her shoulders dropped, as though she had given up. On what, he couldn’t say.

  “Because what we saw terrifies me, and I didn’t want to face what it might mean alone. With you here, it all somehow seems a little less daunting. You…you make me believe maybe we have a chance. Intellectually I know you can’t do any more than I can to stop what’s coming but…but still you make me feel…safe.”

  She squared her shoulders and stood up straight. Proud. Defiant. “But it’s fine. I’m a big girl, and I’ve spent twenty-three years facing challenges alone. I’ve got it covered.” She nodded sharply to emphasize the statement and started down the stairs.

  “I’ll go.”

  She froze, one foot hovering above the second step, and whipped her head over to him. “What?”

  What, indeed. “I’ll go to Earth with you.”

  “Are you serious? We went through all this drama and angst—enough to fill a smeshnoy soap opera vid—and now you’re just—”

  He raised an eyebrow in challenge. “Do you want me to go with you or not?”

  “Well yes, but—”

  “Then quit bitching.” He gave her the smirk he had already figured out drove her nuts.

  She stared at him for a second—and burst out laughing. It was uncontrolled, weary and beautifully genuine.

  When she had minimally composed herself she gestured to the cockpit. “I’m going to go revert our route back real quick….” Halfway there, she paused. The dim light faded to darkness near the cockpit, and her profile was a shadow against blurred stars.

  “Thank you.”

  He merely nodded in response. After a breath he drew the privacy screen closed, lay back on the cot and closed his eyes.

  What was he doing?

  Following her, apparently.

  When he had stood there and watched her, hair all tousled and tangled, gaze sleepy and unfocused, defenses worn away, defeated and near to broken but standing proud nonetheless…he had realized he simply wasn’t ready to let her walk out of his life.

  Okay. Going to Earth, then. To Earth Alliance Strategic Command, in point of fact—

  His eyes flew open.

  He had an idea.

  “Sorry if I disturbed you, sir. I realize it’s very late there—or very early, I suppose.”

  “It’s fine, Agent Marano. None of us are getting much sleep at the moment. Has there been a change in your circumstances?”

  “Of a sort. I’d like to propose a new option.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “First I have a question, and I’d appreciate your honesty when answering. Did our government authorize the assassination of the Alliance Trade Minister?”

  “To my knowledge it did not. As far as I’m concerned everything about the assassination is wrong…but events have moved beyond it now.”

  “Perhaps not. One more question. Does the government desire war with the Alliance?”

  “They do after Palluda. That kind of slaughter can’t go unanswered. But before the attack? No.”

  “This war—I believe it’s a trap, one which will leave us weakened and defenseless when the aliens attack.”

  “What are you implying?”

  “I suspect we didn’t assassinate the Trade Minister and I suspect the Alliance didn’t attack Palluda. I suspect everyone has been tricked into going to war against one another. And I hope to find us a way out of the trap.”

  “Okay, now I really am listening.”

  “Thank you. I want to act as an unofficial, off-the-record envoy to Alliance military leadership. If I can prove to them we didn’t start this war, perhaps we can end it.”

  “Well, that’s a problem, because I don’t have any proof—beyond the word of politicians—we didn’t start the war. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve tried like Hell to find it. But all the evidence points to Chris Candela as the assassin, which makes it damn hard to deny it was our doing with a straight face.”

  “You think he’s not responsible for the hit?”

  “I think I can’t prove he’s not responsible because the Minister’s body became an Alliance state secret approximately two minutes after he ceased breathing.”

  “What if you could?”

  36

  DEUCALI

  EARTH ALLIANCE SW REGIONAL MILITARY HEADQUARTERS

  * * *

  THE QEC ROOM ALWAYS made Liam feel as though he was suffocating. It wasn’t so much the size—while hardly what he would consider spacious, it included a desk, a full-sized chair, a long wall for holo projections and plenty of space to maneuver around. But the three layers of six-centimeter thick sound-absorbing nanomaterial together with the active phase cancellation waves reverberating in the gaps between each layer created a hyper-silence in the air which was both unnerving and stifling.

  Still, it was a required accommodation for EASC Board meetings, and these days it may even be necessary.

  A large holo projection filled the back half of the room, creating a near-real representation of the view from his ‘chair,’ were he to be sitting in Vancouver. If he turned his head the holo followed his eyes, in a complete 360-degree circle should he desire to see if anyone stood behind his virtual presence.

  As it had been for the last several meetings, the scene was rather chaotic. Aides bustled about and mini-conferences were underway scattered around the room. In the past it might have made him feel like an outsider, cut off from the real power. Today though, he simply couldn’t get worked up over it; he was in too good a mood.

  After all, he had his war.

  He made an effort to tamp down the smile he realized was growing on his lips as Alamatto called the meeting to order.

  “Good morning. By now I assume everyone has transitioned to wartime protocols and procedures within their organizations. It’s still early yet, but we need to stay in front of developments. General Foster, if you would update us on the Arcadia situation?”

  The Northwestern Regional Commander nodded solemnly. In Liam’s opinion, he should be handing in his resignation and crawling off in shame after allowing such a humiliating defeat to occur on his watch.

  “Yes, sir. The casualties have risen to 763, but I don’t expect them to rise appreciably further. The damage assessment has been completed, and it is not good. We lost all the fighters stationed at the base and two of the four frigates which were groundside—the other two sustained significant but repairable damage. Seventy-two percent of the physical structures are a total loss. Temporary plasma shields have been placed
around the headquarters building to enable it to retain some functionality. Most of the electronic systems were underground and are undamaged, thankfully.”

  “What’s the status of the orbital arrays?”

  “Sixty-four percent of the sensors suffered damage and are functioning at reduced capacity. Six of the fourteen plasma weapons—those facing the region the attackers approached from—were destroyed.”

  “It’ll take months to replace those—and hundreds of millions!”

  Liam rolled his eyes in the direction of the EASC Logistics Director. If ever there was a more whiny, pansy little bitch, he hadn’t met them.

  Alamatto acknowledged the Director but kept his attention on Foster. “In the short term, the diminished planetary defenses are our largest concern. It’s my understanding a squadron is inbound from Fionava to provide active patrols in the system for now.”

  “Obviously this initial setback is unfortunate. However, given no declarations of war had been issued at the time, we must not view it as a defeat. But we are at war now, and the important thing is to focus on winning it, as quickly and bloodlessly as possible.”

  Liam leaned forward expectantly. “What’s our first front? We should have already moved by now, in my opinion. The 2nd and 3rd Brigades attached to the Southwestern Command are at full strength and on alert, ready to engage against any target identified.”

  Solovy exhaled in the annoying, holier-than-thou way she had. “General, it would take a week for your ships to reach Senecan space. If you will send a squadron to Fionava to compensate for the one dispatched to Arcadia, that will be sufficient for now.”

  “Well what are we doing, then? Sitting around with our thumbs stuck up our asses?” Dammit, now that his war was here, he needed to be in it. He had lobbied for one of the northern regional commands several times in the last few years, but had been unsuccessful. Maybe with Foster in a weakened position….

  Solovy looked positively smug. “Far from it. While Admiral Rychen’s forces maneuver into position for strikes on Senecan targets—forgive me, General, perhaps you’d like to brief everyone?”