Lost Planet 02 - The Stolen Moon (6 page)

Chase hesitated. He'd assumed that she at least knew his cover story about being an orphan from Trucon, but maybe the doctor hadn't told her. Or she hadn't asked. So he told her the sanitized, crew-friendly version of his life story in brief.

Analora's face grew still as she listened to him speak. “That's awful,” she said quietly when he was done. “I followed the Trucon events in the news when it happened. I can't even imagine what it was like for you.”

Chase shook his head. “It's weird, I don't even remember my parents. I don't know which I'm sadder about—losing them, or not even remembering who they were to begin with. My sister's here now too, but I don't have any memories of her either. We don't really get along.”

“That sounds horrible.” She stretched her legs out beside his.

“I guess when you lose the things that matter to you, it kind of feels like you don't know who you are anymore. With or without amnesia.”

Analora nodded. “I know that feeling for sure.” She knocked her foot companionably against his and smiled at him. “Maybe we can hang out, then, and be a little less lonely.”

“I'd like that.” Chase returned her smile, and his spirits brightened for the first time that day.

 

CHAPTER FIVE

Lying in his bunk in the early morning, Chase watched the view from the observation deck on their video screen as a smaller vessel pulled up alongside the
Kuyddestor
. After three days of travel, they had stopped at the edge of the Galloi star system for a rendezvous with a Federation envoy ship, the
Falconer
. In the officers' lounge Chase had overheard that the ambassador sent by the Federation was coming aboard this morning to meet with the captain.

“Do you understand what it is we're supposed to be doing on this mission?” he asked.

The sound of rustling sheets came from the top bunk. “Escorting some peacekeepers,” mumbled Parker, half asleep.

“Yeah, but what are they keeping the peace about?”

Parker sighed and rolled over. “This planet we're going to, Storros, wanted to terraform one of its moons, so they hired some workers from another planet in their star system to do it. But then the people from this other planet were pretty happy with the terraforming work they'd done, so at the end they were like, hey, we're gonna just stay here, okay? Bam, conflict. Honestly, you should watch the news once in a while.”

Chase rolled his eyes. “Couldn't they just share the moon?”

“If you were having a house built, would you invite the contractors who built it to live in it with you afterward?”

“A moon's a lot bigger than a house.”

“Yeah, but the principle's the same.” Parker's feet dangled over the edge of the top bunk, and he dropped to the floor and slouched toward his desk. Between working on his microchip and sorting through data about the blackout to look for anything suspicious, nearly all his time lately was spent in front of the computer.

Chase got out of bed and started changing into the clothes he'd left lying on the floor. “So we get to Storros tomorrow?”

“I suppose so. Or maybe later today.” Parker started fiddling with a jumble of tiny wires he'd brought back from his last visit to the engine room.

Chase walked to the desk and leaned over to watch Parker laying out each thin wire as he untangled them. “Did hacking into the mainframe help you with the Asa stuff at all?”

“It did, but then I needed to get a more accurate signal reader. I just finally got the right stuff to build one.” He kept working, head bent over his desk.

“I'm going up to the observation deck for a closer look at the Federation ship.” Chase paused. “Wanna come?”

Parker shook his head, not looking up. “Nah.”

Chase slipped out of the room and headed down the hall, but not toward the observation deck. His path went toward the teleport chamber. If someone were trying to entrap Captain Lennard or anyone else on the
Kuyddestor
, the ambassador would be the first possible suspect. Catching a glimpse of the man might not tell Chase much about him, but it was a start.

The room to the teleport chamber was open, and the only person inside was the officer manning the teleport console. Chase groaned internally when he saw who it was. Corporal Liadan Lahey, with her limp brown bob and permanent sour expression, was probably the unfriendliest person on the entire ship—surpassing even Lieutenant Derrick. Swallowing his apprehension, he tried to stroll casually into the room.

“Hey, are the Federation people here?” he asked.

Corporal Lahey looked up from her console with an insta-scowl, pursing her lips. “It's none of your business. Get back to your quarters.”

Chase tried again. “I was just curious if the ambassador's on the ship.”

“What part of ‘get back to your quarters' did you not understand?” Her eyes shrank to angry slits. “Get out of here, or I'll have the MPs escort you off the deck.”

Chase opened his mouth to say something, thought better of it, and turned back to the hallway. He knew Parker would have had some kind of smart response for this, but he didn't feel safe risking it, nor could he think of anything halfway clever to say. He was certain that Corporal Lahey was one of the soldiers who'd been sworn to secrecy about Chase's status aboard the ship. He didn't think she knew about his ability, but she'd been one of the few people present when Captain Lennard had accused Chase of being a clone—before Chase proved him wrong by surviving the vaporizing beam of a particle disperser.

Chase headed back down the hallway, thinking he might go to the officers' lounge instead, when a door slid open on his right. He froze as three MPs walked out, followed by a tall, dark-haired woman and two men.

“I do of course appreciate you putting your ship and crew at our disposal with such short notice,” one of the men was saying in an overly gracious tone. His face was plump and saggy, and the receding knot of hair on the top of his head was obviously dyed an obnoxious mahogany. He ran his hands over a wide, soft belly that bulged under an expensive-looking caftan.

“It's only our duty, Ambassador,” said a familiar booming voice. Captain Lennard followed them out of the room, giving a slight frown as he noticed Chase in the hallway, and continued, “I'll have the crew begin prepping the ship immediately.”

Chase frowned.
Prepping the ship for what?

The ambassador smiled at Lennard in a condescending fashion. “We'll send over a crew of our own people to help with the preparations.”

The tall, bony, raven-haired woman beside the ambassador caught sight of Chase and cocked her head. “Is there a large civilian population on your ship, Captain?” she asked in a deep, mellifluous voice.

“Some of our older soldiers have families on board,” Lennard said curtly.

The woman took a few steps toward Chase, eyeing him with a curiosity that made him regret coming to the conference level of the ship. “Hello there,” she said. “Who are you?”

Chase gulped and looked to Captain Lennard.

“He is one of a small number of cadets we took on board after Trucon,” Lennard explained. “His parents were killed in the disaster.”

“My dear boy,” said the ambassador loudly, shaking back the sleeves of his caftan to spread his hands in a way that Chase guessed was supposed to look welcoming. “Please know from me personally that the Federation acknowledges your loss with great sorrow.
You
are the Federation.” His words were slick-perfect, delivered as though he'd spoken them hundreds of times. “Come, Ksenia, we must be getting back to the
Falconer
. Captain, we will rendezvous with you again once we are in Rhima's orbit.”

“I'll escort you to the teleport chamber,” he said, giving Chase a stern look as he walked past.

Chase hurried away down the hall, but he paused to look back as the group entered the teleport chamber—all but Ksenia, who lingered in the hallway a moment longer, staring directly at Chase.

*   *   *

Parker spun around in his seat as soon as Chase got back to their room. “What did you do?” he asked, eyes alight.

Chase stopped where he stood. “What?”

The message flashed on the screen:
Chase Garrety please report to the bridge immediately — end message —

Busted. The captain must be furious with him for snooping on the meeting and letting himself be seen by an outsider—and not just any outsider, but someone from the Federation. What a dumb mistake.

“What's that all about?” asked Parker. “Chase?”

But Chase had already turned, sweat beading on his forehead, and walked out of the room without answering.

The elevator ride up to the bridge seemed to take forever. On the second floor, directly across from the elevators, was the double-door entry to the bridge. Chase took a step toward it and paused. He'd only been on the bridge a couple of times, and then as a guest—not summoned. He didn't have a badge, so he had to press the notification key and wait to be identified and allowed inside.

The command desks on the bridge were organized in three tiers, all facing a huge video screen. The screen was split into six quadrants—one a feed of the mining colony, two with navigation charts, two filled with scrolling data, and one with the videofeed of a blond woman whom Chase recognized as Parri Dietz, a well-known intergalactic news anchor. In the front tier, the navigation officers sat relaxed, their duties relatively few as long as the ship was orbiting the colony. In the middle tier, the safety and weapons officers sat alongside Colonel Forquera, who glanced back at Chase and resumed the conversation he was having. And in the back tier, Captain Lennard sat at his wide console, with the communications and tactical officers at his side.

Without turning, the captain spoke. “So, you're curious about the peace talks, are you?”

“Um, I just thought maybe…” Chase paused, hoping the captain would start talking again and let him leave the sentence unfinished, but Lennard said nothing. Instead he barreled ahead with the questions that eavesdropping had left him with. “What are we prepping the ship for? Why was the ambassador telling you what to do?”

The captain turned his chair and examined Chase, frowning slightly. “Chase, what do you know about the Federation?”

“They … run the Fleet?”

The captain suppressed a smile and looked at the officer beside him, a young woman with light auburn hair cropped short and dark brown skin. “Lieutenant Thandiway, do you take your orders from the Federation?”

“No, sir,” the lieutenant answered.

“Does Admiral Cort take his orders from the Federation?”

“No, sir. Separate but united.”

“Separate but united,” Lennard repeated, looking Chase directly in the eyes for impact. “The Federation and the Fleet are—how much galactic history do you know?”

Chase shook his head. He knew his parents had intentionally kept him unaware about the larger universe, in what was apparently a misguided attempt to shelter him from its dangers. And studying history hadn't exactly been a big priority since he'd come onboard the
Kuyddestor
.

The captain sighed. “I apologize. I'd planned on setting you kids up with a tutor once you got settled, and I'm afraid I dropped the ball on that. I'll put in a crew request once this mission is over.” He paused and interlocked his fingers. “Let me see how well I can explain this. Before there was a Federation, about a hundred years ago during the Expansion Era, all the planets operated independently of one another. There were a few individual alliances between planets, but no overarching governing body or regulation structure.

“When the Ganthas star system was discovered—Qesaris, Ueta, Senica, and Trucon, four habitable planets, none of them with preexisting civilizations—it was like this incredible jewel in the middle of the galaxy, and many planets rushed to claim one for themselves. Very quickly this escalated into fighting and became the Ganthas War, which dragged on for years and nearly ruined entire civilizations. In the aftermath, the planets left standing with the fewest losses made the decision to create a governing body for the known universe.”

“Which planets?” asked Chase.

“The strongest ones, which we now refer to as the alpha grade planets. It was at this time that they also created the civilization grading system. Now, the Federation needed some sort of body to enforce its regulations, but the alphas were unable to agree on how to organize this, so Earth, who had the largest and most advanced spaceforce, offered to establish the Federal Fleet, with the agreement that officers from other alpha civilizations would be trained and incorporated over time. This promise wasn't actually put into action until very recently, when the officer interchange program began.”

“That's how Maurus got into the Fleet, right?” asked Chase.

“Exactly. But do you understand the relationship between the two? The Fleet operates in conjunction with the Federation, but it's run independently. That said, there is a lot of crossover—many former Fleet officers retire to work for the Federation. Officially, neither body has any say over what the other does … but there is an undeniable degree of influence.”

“So who's in charge here, the Fleet or the Federation?”

Captain Lennard pushed his chair away from the console. “The Federation is heading to this conflict to mediate a disagreement between two Iota civilizations, and our role here is to support and protect their representatives. That means helping out wherever we can. What you overheard was that Ambassador Corinthe has requested that we host the first round of peace talks aboard the
Kuyddestor
. Both sides insist on sending an entire delegation, and the
Falconer
isn't big enough to accommodate them all.”