1 1
11 Years Later
Jared Clement held up his normal end of the bar, just like every night, drinking his Irish whiskey, straight, and watching the propaganda that passed for “news” on the Argyle Station monitors. According to the 5 Suns Alliance News Network, crop yields had just broken records on the planet below the orbiting space station, but Clement knew better. That was one of the reasons he preferred to stay aboard a well-stocked space station instead of on the bleak landscape of the planet Argyle itself. The people below, almost two million of them, were mostly starving, and everyone around here knew it. Hell, more than a decade ago, Clement had fought, and lost, a war over it. Not that any of that mattered now.
The real truth was that the relatively well-off world of Ceta, where he was born, had upped their food shipments to Argyle just to stave off the starvation of a handful of the colonists below. Crop yields on Argyle were lower than at any time in the last two decades, and even though the 5 Suns Alliance had promised increased food aid to the three worlds of the former Rim Confederation as a promise made for ending their civil war with an armistice, that support had never come. What aid that did get sent was skimmed and sold on the black market by 5 Suns Alliance administrators, with a sizeable kickback to the Rim Worlds Governor-General to look the other way. It was the same kind of issue that had started the uprising, but nowadays people in the Rim just seemed to have no belly for the fight anymore. They were too busy trying to survive.
As a war veteran though, Clement had a better deal than most. He hadn’t been forced by conscription back into the 5 Suns Alliance Navy, nor exiled on Ceta or Argyle itself. And he used his vet status and a meager pension (really, just a buyoff from the 5SA to keep the peace) as a means to stay in space and serve in the merchant marine. He’d managed to squeak out a pretty good subsistence as a reliable ship captain and sometimes pilot. It wasn’t much, but despite the drinking he’d proven reliable enough to keep an apartment on the station, and most merchant sailors had stopped giving him stick for being a “dirty rebel” years ago. Most, in fact, rarely even recognized him anymore. He had become a nobody to the 5 Suns, and that’s the way he wanted to keep it. He’d lost enough in the goddamned war, his ship, friends, and even a lover. Rebellion wasn’t even a word in his vocabulary anymore.
He’d chosen Argyle as his base because it was the best of the Rim stations, and the main port where the 5 Suns Navy offloaded all of their best contraband for reselling. In retrospect, it had been a wise choice. There was (almost) always good booze and even some delicacies from the Core Planets that came through the station, like oysters and shellfish and even the occasional blue lobster. It made life a bit more interesting anyway.
He flipped his index finger at the barkeep, another grizzled veteran of the war whose name he’d forgotten, as a signal to hit him with another shot of the whiskey. The barkeep did as instructed, then said, “one more,” and held up his own index finger just to emphasize the point. Clement had set himself a drink limit at the bar to keep from falling into financial chaos. Six shots a night was all he would allow himself. Tonight though, that limit was looking dubious. These days, since the war, drinking was his only solace and alcohol usually his only companion.
The 5 Suns Alliance news had now turned to sports, specifically the Super-Rugby Final between Voyagers and Holy Sacrament from the Core Worlds of the two main-sequence inner suns, those being Colonus A and B. The planets Santos, Carribea, and Freehold orbited Colonus A, with Atlas and Columbia orbiting B. Clement forgot which planet which team was from, but he was pretty sure he used to be a Voyagers fan when he was a kid. Either that or he hated them. He couldn’t actually remember.
Clement downed his fifth shot. It was now nearly certain the barkeep was watering down the whiskey. He barely had a buzz on, and it was getting near midnight.
Word was he might have a job coming up as a Class VI freighter pilot, but that wasn’t for two more weeks. Plenty more shots to go between now and then, and that was fine with Clement. The war had taken all of the ambition out of his system, in more ways than one.
The 5 Suns shipping syndicates liked hiring him because of his reputation for being fast and efficient, and also his ability to avoid troublesome Tax Compliance patrols. He was a good pilot, using a combination of speed, stealth and sometimes just brute power to avoid trouble with the authorities. Everything he’d learned had been from watching his pilot in the war, Mika Ori. She was magnitudes of scale better than he was. Absently, he thought about contacting her and her husband, Ivan Massif. It had been over three years since their last communication. Heck, maybe they were divorced. He let that thought slide out of his mind with the whiskey . . .
“Captain Clement,” came the voice from over his shoulder. It was female, and pleasant, but still, Clement had to decide if he wanted to turn around. Ultimately, he decided he didn’t.
“There is no ‘Captain Clement,’ lady, hasn’t been for many years. My name’s Jared, and I can tell from your voice that whatever you came here to ask me, the answer is no.” He signaled the barkeep one last time, and was dutifully rewarded with his final shot glass. The woman came around his shoulder and leaned in on the bar, looking toward him and getting in his personal space to the point where he had to pay attention to her. Unable to avoid her further, Clement relented and looked at her.
She was a pretty woman of Asian descent, in her late twenties he guessed, and all made up in a 5 Suns Alliance Navy commander’s rank uniform. Her hair hung short and straight with a full run of bangs across her forehead with no part. He decided she looked serious enough, even if he wasn’t.
“By the rules of the Treaty of Argyle you’re still allowed the honoraria of your Rim Confederation Captain’s rank, even if you’re retired, Mr. Clement,” she said, pointedly avoiding using his rank this time. For his part, Clement looked away and contemplated ordering his last shot.
“You know, I think you’re the highest-ranking navy officer I’ve seen since my war parole ended,” he deadpanned. She humored him.
“And how long ago was that?”
“About nine years,” Clement said. “I did nine months in navy confinement after the armistice, forced to give up my tactical secrets to your navy, was separated from my crew after the war ended, then had supervised parole for another two years to make sure I was firmly compliant and not thinking about restarting an old conflict. Not the best of times. And you’re reminding me of them now.”
“I really don’t know that much about the war, or its aftermath, Mr. Clement. All of that was over well before I joined the 5 Suns Alliance Navy.” She leaned in a bit closer, as if she were examining his face. It still had some of the glow of youth. The short-cropped and buzzed hair had a hint of gray at the temples and he had his share of weathered wrinkles on his forehead and crow’s feet, though not in abundance. It certainly was the face of a man who had been through some difficult times in life.
Clement made a squinty face of disapproval at her. “Don’t you have to study navy history anymore? Hell, I did when I was in the 5SN.”
She nodded, humoring him. “We do. But now we have peace again, and everyone gets along like they’re supposed to,” she said.
Clement twirled his empty shot glass on the bar and eyeballed the commander, then signaled for the barkeep to fill his last shot. She watched as Clement’s shot glass was filled.
“You’re new to the Rim, aren’t you, Commander?” he said sarcastically. She smiled before continuing, and it looked pleasant on her face.
“As a matter of fact, yes. This is my first time in the Rim Sector. I’ve spent most of my career in the Kemmerine Sector apart from a short stint at Colonus Sector on Atlas,” she said. Colonus Sector was the richest part of 5 Suns Alliance space, where the two main-sequence G-type stars that formed the core of exo-Sol human civilization revolved around each other in an eighty-year dance. The three outlying orange K-type stars that completed the 5 Suns Alliance all had habitable planets, but the three outlier worlds of the Rim were by far the poorest, not being blessed with nearly the natural resources that the five worlds that spun around Colonus A and B had. Clement smiled.
“You’re practically wet behind the ears, Commander. What did you say your name was?”
“I didn’t, but if you must know it’s Tanitha Yan. Commander Tanitha Yan.”
“Tanitha? Odd name for a Chinese girl from New Hong Kong on Shenghai,” commented Clement. She blushed just a bit and then sat down on the empty stool next to him.
“How did you know what city I was from?” she asked. He smiled.
“I’m pretty good with my colonial accents. Yours is very slight, but I was still able to make it out,” he said. “From what I know of the culture on your world, I’m guessing that most of your friends were no doubt more interested in being socialites, but you joined the 5 Suns Navy, Tanitha. I wonder why?”
She shrugged. “My father was a professor,” Commander Yan offered. “My mother stayed at home. I guess you could say I was privileged. Compared to almost anyone on the Rim worlds I’m sure you’d think me rich and spoiled. But I wanted to do something on my own, away from my surroundings and my parent’s protection. When the navy needed recruits, I agreed to join the officer corps right out of college, but I wasn’t given anything. I got where I am on merit, Mr. Clement.”
He nodded. “Fair enough. Now tell me how you got that name again, Tanitha?”
Again the shrug. “It’s just a westernized name I took over my given name when I went to school. My parents thought it would be easier for me growing up on a split colony,” she said.
“Well, the French and Chinese have gotten along so well over the centuries,” Clement deadpanned, referring to the early colonial wars that broke out on her home planet. “So now you have to tell me because I must know. What was your given name?”
She blushed again and her face took on a lovely pink tone. “Xiu Mei,” she said. Now Clement laughed openly and loudly.
“Xiu Mei? Do you know what that means?” he said. She gave a nod of her head as she turned even more pink.
“Yes.”
“Beautiful Plum!” He looked at her, laughing as she smiled, embarrassed. “Well you certainly are all that, Miss Yan. But now that I’ve had my fun with you, why don’t you tell me why you’re here talking to me?”
“I would prefer that to be done in private, Mr. Clement,” Yan said. Clement downed his last shot.
“Well, I’m a very private man, Miss Yan; I don’t open my door to just anyone.” Now she got a serious look on her face. “The proposal I have for you will be well worth your time, I would think. And it comes from the highest of authorities.”
“I’m not much on authority these days, especially when it comes from the 5 Suns Alliance Navy,” he said.
“You’re going to want to hear this proposal, believe me,” she replied. The look on her face was firm and serious.
He shrugged. “My time isn’t free,” Clement said flatly.
“Name your price,” she said quickly.
Clement looked to the barkeep. “Argyle Select Scotch, single malt,” he said, “and unopened.” The last was to verify that it wasn’t watered down.
“You’re over your limit,” protested the bartender, not wanting to give up a bottle of his highest-quality booze at any price. Clement looked to Yan and back.
“I’ll have the bottle,” he said. “She’s buying.” The bartender looked to Yan, who nodded. Reluctantly he pressed a key on his register and a biometric scanner flashed across her eyes and debited the listed amount for the scotch, which was much higher than its real commercial value. The bartender took the bottle off his rack and slid it across the bar to Clement, who took it with a practiced ease and a nod, and then slid a two-crown tip the other way. Then he stood to leave.
“You’ll have fifteen minutes to convince me in my cabin, Miss Yan. Then I kick you out,” he said.
“Fair enough,” she replied, standing as well, “but I hope you don’t think my ‘convincing’ will be with anything but words.”
“Oh, I have no doubt of that. Besides, I would never dream of asking such a thing of an obvious lady like yourself. Now, if you’d like to follow me . . . ” He gestured toward the door of the bar with a broad sweep of his hand. Yan said nothing, but stepped past him and into the adjoining corridor, which was full of general station riffraff.
They both went silent as they walked, Yan observing in her staid, military way and Clement walking casually, cradling the unopened bottle of scotch. They arrived at his cabin on C deck and he keyed in the door code, the security system scanning Yan for weapons as she passed the threshold.
“You’re not the trusting type, are you, Mr. Clement?” she commented.
“Just something I learned from your kind during the war,” he said.
“I was fifteen,” she replied, “during your war.”
Yan entered and surveyed the room. It was small, barely more than a studio, but he had a porthole view of the station’s stem and the dusty planet Argyle below. There was a small desk, entertainment complex, separate bathroom and a divider for his bed, a small sofa, and a reclining chair which Clement promptly sat down in, likely his favorite spot, she decided. It was neat and clean, and showed the care of a former military man who was deep on discipline if not entirely flowing in crowns and luxury.
“So what’s your assessment of my lifetime of accomplishments?” he said, capping the scotch and pouring into two drinking glasses. Yan looked around one more time, then started in.
“Despite your rather shaggy outward appearance, which I suspect is a false front, underneath you are disciplined and thoughtful. You don’t need for much, and you don’t want much, but you seem to be a man who is ready at any time to take advantage of an opportunity if it comes your way, and I would guess you’ve been expecting it to come your way for a while now,” she said.
He contemplated her from over the rim of his glass. “And now, coincidentally, you’re here. Thanks for the psychoanalysis, by the way,” he said.
Yan sat down on the sofa facing him and picked up her glass of the scotch. She looked to a bookcase in the entertainment complex. One display panel had his military medals, some 5SN and some Rim Confederation, a pair of old conventional field glasses in a glass box, and . . . a photo of his former command crew on the Beauregard. She pointed to the photo.
“You feel like you let them down.” It was a simple statement, followed by a simple answer.
“I did, which is why I can’t imagine why anyone in the 5 Suns Navy would want to talk to me,” he said.
“And yet here I am, representing that very same navy, and someone of special importance in it. Someone who knows your military record very well.”
Clement sat deeper into his chair, crossing his legs and resting them on the table in a show of disinterest. “So tell me your proposal, Miss Yan,” he said as he took a small drink of his scotch, which was damn good compared to the swill in the station bar.
“Aren’t you curious who it’s from?” she asked. He shook his head.
“If it’s a shit job I won’t care to know, so you’d best be out with it,” he said.
Yan settled in a bit, then addressed him in an almost formal way. “The Fleet Admiral of the 5 Suns Alliance Navy for the Kemmerine Sector wants to offer you a command,” she said simply. Kemmerine was the nearest 5 Suns Alliance sector to the Rim. Its single star was one of the orange K types, but much more powerful than Argyle, with six planets in the system, two habitable, one of which was Yan’s home world of Shenghai. The other was called New Paris.
“Why?” he said, skeptical and taking another drink.
“Because the mission is dangerous. Because it requires a ship commander of exceptional ability and experience, and the Fleet Admiral doesn’t feel she has anyone who fits that description under her command,” Yan said.
“Her command?” said Clement, intrigued. “I can’t think of too many women who have that kind of respect for me.”
Yan looked at him, eyes unwavering. A smile crossed her face. “Elara DeVore does,” she said.
That shocked him. Hearing her name was like a bolt of lightning through his nervous system. It took all of his efforts to control himself, to try and not show Yan the very tender button she had just pushed. He thought long and hard before he spoke again.
“I haven’t seen or heard from Elara DeVore since the war ended, and that was eleven years ago. We were split up, all of my crew, into different POW camps while the peace treaties were being negotiated. And now you’re telling me that she’s a 5 Suns Alliance Navy Fleet Admiral?” he finally said, his voice raising more than he wanted it too.
“Yes,” said Yan, “in command over the entire Kemmerine Sector. And she wants you to undertake a very special mission. That’s why I’m here.”
Clement said nothing. After another long silence between them, Yan stood to leave. “I see you’re a bit stunned by this news. I understand. But I’ll need to give her an answer. Shall I tell her it’s a no?” Clement looked to the bottle, then up at Yan.
“Not yet,” he said.
Yan got a look of frustration on her face. “I leave Argyle station at 1000 hours tomorrow, Mr. Clement. I’ll come by here in the morning at 0800. If you’re going with me to Kemmerine, you’ll be ready. If you aren’t ready, then I’ll know your answer,” she said.
Clement poured into his glass again, saying nothing.
Yan went to the door, but turned back one last time. “They said you were the best captain in the Rim Confederation fleet. They must be wrong, because I don’t see that man here now. I just see someone who’s lost inside of a bottle,” she said.
Clement glared at her, holding back his rising anger. “Maybe you’re right,” he said. “Maybe that man doesn’t exist anymore. Maybe the man that Elara DeVore wants never existed. Maybe, he’s a myth.”
Yan’s face gave away nothing. “Perhaps he is. At any rate, what I see now is just useless Rim Confederation trash,” she said, using a nearly forgotten war slur. “But I want you to know, if you don’t take this job, then it falls to me, and I can’t wait to go on this mission for my commanding officer.” At that she opened the door to leave. Clement’s voice stopped her.
“And what happens to you if I do take the mission?”
“Then I will be your executive officer,” Yan said.
Clement looked at her with disdain. “The hell you will,” he said.
“Well, you’ve made your position clear. I hope you enjoy holding up your end of the bar here on Argyle. See you at 0800. Or not.” Then she stepped through the door and it shut swiftly behind her.
And Clement was left alone with his bottle of scotch.