both him and the senate but almost nobody else. It couldn’t be good.
‘Put it on the screen, please,’ he said.
The committee room’s monitor wall swapped to video display.
‘This is a recording taken at Survey Star Nine-One-Nine, provisionally named Tiwanaku,’ said the SAP. ‘It was recorded by the escort scout IPS Reynard and forwarded via emergency messenger drone. The events captured occurred approximately four weeks ago, local frame time.’
The video started and Will saw what Captain Tom Okano-Lark had seen. After the Reynard initiated battle mode, the perspective jumped to grainy footage from the drone’s onboard telescope, pointed back towards the ship. The picture flickered with every pulse of warp. They caught a brief final glimpse of the Reynard accelerating to avoid the unidentified swarm closing on it, and then nothing.
A cold silence fell across the hall. One senator nervously cleared his throat. The hair on Will’s neck stood up straight.
‘Have we heard from the Reynard since the drone’s release?’ he said.
‘No,’ the room replied.
If the Reynard had survived, it would undoubtedly have followed up with an All Clear .
‘How was this message forwarded?’ Pari asked in a hushed voice.
‘Via Far Frontier Headquarters in the New Panama System and priority fuelling stars. Security Level Freddie has been applied since initial receipt.’
‘Then we’re the first in the home system to know.’
‘Along with Admiral Baron, yes,’ said the room.
Will looked back at the senators’ faces, their expressions now blank with surprise. This had been an unusual morning for them. In Pari’s eyes, he saw something like compassion.
‘This rather changes things, doesn’t it?’ she said.
Will nodded. Suddenly, the tables had turned. If they moved to a war footing, he wouldn’t have to worry much about senate approval any more since the democratic functions of IPSO were suspended during a Fleet emergency. Funding battles would be the least of their problems.
Will didn’t find himself enjoying that knowledge. Instead it made him feel obscurely guilty, as if he was no longer playing by the rules he’d set himself.
‘I’ll get this sorted out,’ he told the staring faces around him. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll make sure it’s resolved.’
‘We’ll help however we can,’ said Pari.
‘Thank you,’ said Will. ‘Now if you’ll excuse me, I should probably go and speak to the admiral.’ He nodded his respects and headed for the door.
If the attack had actually been perpetrated by aliens, who knew what else they’d be capable of? The Transcended who helped Will end the war had been able to remotely blow up stars on a whim. Nevertheless, Will felt excitement bubbling up. Here, at last, was a problem worthy of his abilities. Maybe he’d get a chance to actually do some good for once.
2: GATHERING
2.1: WILL
Will paced the transit pod as it whisked him across Bradbury to the Admiralty building at three times the legal speed limit. The SAP begged him to take a seat with every wild turn it took through the transport web. Will ignored it.
The pod segued onto a vertical track and raced up the side of the building, shunting others aside with override warnings, and deposited him at the entrance to Ira’s suite. The doors leapt open just in time to miss Will’s striding feet.
Ira’s office filled a four-hundred-square-metre slice of sparsely decorated tower-habitat with cyber-thyme flooring and off-white organic walls. At the far end, a huge window-wall looked onto the glassy, peach-tinted ruins of the Mars Pioneers Historical Park. Ira stood near it, instructing most of his entourage and furniture to leave.
‘… Monet is here, I said. Everybody out except you two chairs. That’s right, you two.’
He ushered them through the archway into the planning chamber beyond. As soon as the doors had shut, he turned to greet Will with an urgent grimace.
‘You heard, then?’
They’d
‘Put it on the screen, please,’ he said.
The committee room’s monitor wall swapped to video display.
‘This is a recording taken at Survey Star Nine-One-Nine, provisionally named Tiwanaku,’ said the SAP. ‘It was recorded by the escort scout IPS Reynard and forwarded via emergency messenger drone. The events captured occurred approximately four weeks ago, local frame time.’
The video started and Will saw what Captain Tom Okano-Lark had seen. After the Reynard initiated battle mode, the perspective jumped to grainy footage from the drone’s onboard telescope, pointed back towards the ship. The picture flickered with every pulse of warp. They caught a brief final glimpse of the Reynard accelerating to avoid the unidentified swarm closing on it, and then nothing.
A cold silence fell across the hall. One senator nervously cleared his throat. The hair on Will’s neck stood up straight.
‘Have we heard from the Reynard since the drone’s release?’ he said.
‘No,’ the room replied.
If the Reynard had survived, it would undoubtedly have followed up with an All Clear .
‘How was this message forwarded?’ Pari asked in a hushed voice.
‘Via Far Frontier Headquarters in the New Panama System and priority fuelling stars. Security Level Freddie has been applied since initial receipt.’
‘Then we’re the first in the home system to know.’
‘Along with Admiral Baron, yes,’ said the room.
Will looked back at the senators’ faces, their expressions now blank with surprise. This had been an unusual morning for them. In Pari’s eyes, he saw something like compassion.
‘This rather changes things, doesn’t it?’ she said.
Will nodded. Suddenly, the tables had turned. If they moved to a war footing, he wouldn’t have to worry much about senate approval any more since the democratic functions of IPSO were suspended during a Fleet emergency. Funding battles would be the least of their problems.
Will didn’t find himself enjoying that knowledge. Instead it made him feel obscurely guilty, as if he was no longer playing by the rules he’d set himself.
‘I’ll get this sorted out,’ he told the staring faces around him. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll make sure it’s resolved.’
‘We’ll help however we can,’ said Pari.
‘Thank you,’ said Will. ‘Now if you’ll excuse me, I should probably go and speak to the admiral.’ He nodded his respects and headed for the door.
If the attack had actually been perpetrated by aliens, who knew what else they’d be capable of? The Transcended who helped Will end the war had been able to remotely blow up stars on a whim. Nevertheless, Will felt excitement bubbling up. Here, at last, was a problem worthy of his abilities. Maybe he’d get a chance to actually do some good for once.
2: GATHERING
2.1: WILL
Will paced the transit pod as it whisked him across Bradbury to the Admiralty building at three times the legal speed limit. The SAP begged him to take a seat with every wild turn it took through the transport web. Will ignored it.
The pod segued onto a vertical track and raced up the side of the building, shunting others aside with override warnings, and deposited him at the entrance to Ira’s suite. The doors leapt open just in time to miss Will’s striding feet.
Ira’s office filled a four-hundred-square-metre slice of sparsely decorated tower-habitat with cyber-thyme flooring and off-white organic walls. At the far end, a huge window-wall looked onto the glassy, peach-tinted ruins of the Mars Pioneers Historical Park. Ira stood near it, instructing most of his entourage and furniture to leave.
‘… Monet is here, I said. Everybody out except you two chairs. That’s right, you two.’
He ushered them through the archway into the planning chamber beyond. As soon as the doors had shut, he turned to greet Will with an urgent grimace.
‘You heard, then?’
They’d
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