The splinter alliance be.., p.1
The Splinter Alliance (Beyond the Impossible Book 2), page 1
The
Splinter
Alliance
Book 2: Beyond the Impossible
Frank Kennedy
Dedicated to all those who don’t realize how good they have it.
c. 2021 by Frank Kennedy
All rights reserved
To my amazing readers:
Introduction
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PART ONE
ARRIVAL
Excerpt from interview of historian Dr. Orson Baatch, upon release of his stream cyclical War of the Nine: Avoidable Catastrophe, in Standard Year 5438:
Q: Dr. Baatch, you blame many people other than the primary instigator for what occurred during those horrifying years. One of your favorite targets is a Hokki woman, Kara Syung. Your critics say you have spent years trying to unfairly deconstruct her biography. Tell us why.
Baatch: My critics are apologists for the Reconciliation Council, or they’re Aeternans. The others are uneducated fools. I don’t need to deconstruct Ms. Syung. The evidence works in my favor.
Q: For example?
Baatch: Her disastrous wedding in 5366 provided an opportunity to inform Hokkaido and all civilized worlds of the impending threat. Rather than doing this, Ms. Syung orchestrated a coverup while she and a band of rogues hunted the so-called Inventor. The plan was ill-conceived and gave dangerous elements time to embed themselves on the colonies. Moreover, the record is clear: She was unqualified for the mission and compounded disaster with ill-timed decisions.
Q: Many witnesses claim Kara played no role in the coverup.
Baatch: She faked her death and allowed her family to hang naked on a withered vine. What sort of woman does this?
Q: A woman who is out of options.
Baatch: Precisely what an apologist might say.
1
Near Nexus 119, Hokkaido system
Standard Year 5366
2 days after the wedding
K ARA SYUNG TINGLED when her eyes opened. Had she ever felt so refreshed after sleep? Ham was right about the still-seat and binding cylinder. Once she gave in, the tech induced her into perfect hibernation followed by abrupt restoration. Everyone deserved a bed like this, even if it meant standing at seventy degrees while magnetized to a flat steel board. Kara studied the cylinder’s floating med data. Her vitals were brilliant, especially given the trauma of the past few days.
Instinct told her to find Chi-Qua. Her assistant and best friend was always there, first thing in the morning. But this wasn’t morning and Chi-Qua no longer reported to Kara. Nonetheless, habit took charge when she studied the Scramjet’s cabin. Kara dismissed the cylinder and detached from the still-seat. No Chi-Qua Baek in sight, but another face awaited with curled smile.
“Not to worry,” he said. “I wouldn’t allow you miss the main act.”
“Are we there yet?”
The soldier, in black armor up to his neck, glanced away with a chuckle. Dark brown eyes buried beneath a unibrow fell deep into visions of times past.
“My sister and I asked that question relentlessly during rides into the country,” he said, dropping gaps between words. “Drove our father mad, which was more or less our chosen occupation.”
Kara’s eyes had lingered on the soldier since the first time she saw him without a helmet. He was only a few years older, but his haggard features and the toll of war suggested many more.
“You’re from Yaniff? Correct?” She said. “Turkish ancestry?”
“I am, but we never cared a wit about family line. The deceased can’t save you.” He spoke beautiful Engleshe but with a rough-hewn dialect, unlike the Hokkis’ lilting tongue. “But I did have an uncle who talked to ghosts on a regular basis. Delightful man. Always went to him when I needed a laugh. It’s good to laugh, Kara. Do you like to laugh?”
She was embarrassed. He spoke to her as if they were longtime acquaintances and eschewed any pretense of honorifics.
“I haven’t had much cause for it lately,” she said, “but I hope that will change. I have to confess, I don’t remember your …”
He reached out his hand. “Not to worry. We haven’t been the most forthcoming.” They shook. “Cando,” he said. “Cando Aleksanyan. And I have a confession. I’m not the most skilled at approaching women. I spoke with Chi-Qua at some length while you were under.”
“Speaking of, where is she?”
Cando pointed across the cabin to the starboard egress, which was open, a transit tube connecting the Scramjets. The ships docked before Kara and many others – especially Hokki volunteers from Green Sun – went to sleep.
“We’ll have a feast before long,” he said. “Good for morale. A chance to bring the crew together. Unified of purpose, and all that business.” He examined the pod of still-seats, where seven Green Sun agents slept. Cando was the only armored soldier in this cabin. “I might have recommended extra bonding time before we left Hokkaido, but who am I really? Just the pilot. A guy who filled his head with enough quant-alg to plot the Worm. What do I know about the art of team building?”
He had a point. The crew of this mission was thrown together in necessary haste; careful consideration might have built a more cohesive, balanced team. Instead, they embarked as split tribes: Half from Kara’s universe, half from another. Young Green Sun agents who roamed the shadows of The Lagos to kill illegal immigrants and maintain the “purity” of their homeland joined hardened soldiers who fought nonstop war across the divide. The only ones who stood apart: An heiress turned family traitor, her lifelong best friend, and an ex-Chancellor who carried the mantle of tallest human in the room. Hamilton Cortez might have called this concoction “an ill-tempered affair.”
Yet here they were, committed to the slim hope of tracking down Amayas Knight, aka the Inventor, before his Splinters brought chaos to this universe – and eight others.
Cando handed a transparent flask to Kara. “If you’re not parched, you will be soon. Only negative of the still-seat. Or so I’ve heard.”
She drank the water, which was ice cold and sweet.
“You’ve never used one?”
“I don’t sleep. Correction. They tell me I sleep, but I don’t close my eyes all the way. Likely saved my life on a few occasions.”
He masked the comments with a shrug and another chuckle, but Kara felt selfish. She allowed the still-seat to take her away for a full night’s worth of snoozing, while Cando – who spent years living on a knife’s edge in a war without end – remained at his post. She heard bits and bobs about what these soldiers experienced across the divide – and doubted they’d be forthcoming with many details – but the clues were ever-present.
A few in Cando’s company had yet to retract their helmet, which encased them in a virtually impregnable cocoon. Most who showed their faces engaged in little banter, limiting business to their specific duties. Their scars, tattoos, and pale skin spoke of their exhaustion and a loss of something far deeper, Kara thought. Twelve soldiers crossed the divide into her universe, but only those who were born here – Ryllen Jee and Exeter Woolsey – came equipped with apparent social skills. Kara realized how hard it must have been for Cando to step into this simple human moment.
Cando led her to the ship’s forward control cylinder, where seven cushioned swivels formed a semicircle beneath a multi-pronged navigation matrix. The seats were empty now. Twelve hours earlier, Kara and the crew watched as Cando explained why they were unable to make an immediate jump to Artemis Station on the Planetoid Y-14, their mission’s first destination.
The Scramjets’ mobile wormhole tech charted courses using the Galactic Plane Navigation Model. This allowed the “Worm,” as the soldiers called it, to ensure safe travel across the stars in their native universe. Cando demonstrated their problem when he overlaid the GPNM from his universe to the one formulated by the Collectorate. Distances varied to as much as ten percent – potentially whole light-years on longer journeys – and celestial objects did not maintain the same relative positions to the galactic elliptical.
So much for parallel universes.
“In simple terms,” he told the crew, “if we do not recalibrate our quantum algorithmics, we will never have confidence in what awaits at the end of the wormhole aperture. We could emerge inside the middle of a planet. Or worse.”
She saw frustration in Ryllen and Exeter, who believed they’d lose any chance of finding the Inventor with many more delays. She saw abject fear in her fellow Hokkis, none of whom ever set foot off Hokkaido and were reconsidering their commitment. The armored soldiers, however, took the news with stoic poise.
The crew debated using the Fulcrum, the wormhole network connecting the former Collectorate’s forty worlds. They’d reach Y-14 safely, but the trip would take eight standard days. They agreed to a compromise: Pilot the ships on system engines to the Fulcrum’s local Nexus point while the Worm recalibrated. Cando estimated the script would need fifteen hours to complete a successful revision. If it failed, at least they’d be ready for Plan B.
Twelve hours later, the holoscript fall
“It’s working,” he said. “You see how the quant-alg acknowledges very little of the native script?”
Kara was an engineer, but she never found time for quantum physics during school. These algorithms represented a foreign language for which she recognized one out of a hundred words. The rest might as well have been gibberish.
“I’m curious, Cando. Did you learn this math before the war?”
That drew a full-on belly laugh. “Sorry. There was no before. Only cycles. The fighting swarmed across systems. I trained to be a commercial pilot during an interregnum. Then I made the horrible mistake of excelling at my work. People noticed. There’s something to be said for disappearing into the woodwork.”
They had yet to leave the system, and already Kara felt useless. Ryllen claimed he wanted her onboard to counter him should he “do something stupid.” Yet he never expanded upon his reasoning nor explained her duties. Hamilton Cortez, the ex-Chancellor whose anointed role as Admiral carried a limp “ish” on the end, suggested patience. A role would arise after they reached Artemis.
Kara suspected Ham was taking his cues from Ryllen, who kept the squad of war-ravaged soldiers in line, and Exeter, the only one who knew Artemis and the Inventor well. Ham seemed to have lost the arrogant swagger of the man who turned her life upside down in the oceanside bar, Mal’s Drop.
What had it been? Ten days ago? Half a lifetime?
“Tell me of your childhood,” Cando said.
The abrupt shift tied Kara’s tongue. When she allowed herself to process an answer, nothing emerged that didn’t make her sound spoiled and soft.
“I doubt it was as complicated as yours,” she said. “I was very fortunate. Family lines mean a great deal on Hokkaido, and my family made sure to lack for nothing.”
“Fortunately, you rose above it.”
“What do you mean?”
“Too much comfort deadens the edges of our soul. I never knew anyone of great privilege who was willing to toss it all away to achieve a greater purpose. Now I do.”
His smile lingered, the unibrow creasing at the center.
Kara wanted to be flattered. Yet she was a fraud. Dare she tell Cando of her true ambition: Change the world and retain the full weight of her privilege?
“You’re kind,” she said. “But I suspect I’m only beginning to learn what sacrifice means. I’d like to learn more when you’re up to it.”
“Ah. War stories. I will strike you a bargain, Kara. When our current conflict is resolved and I buy farmland on Yaniff, I’ll invite you over for an evening of dried eggplant curry and tales of my escapades.”
She played along. “And lots of wine? I don’t know much about Yaniff, but its vineyards were the most famous in the Collectorate.”
“Interesting. My Yaniff thrived on the grape centuries ago, but climate issues and then the war …” He paused and looked away. “This is good to know, Kara. A nice option for retirement.”
Cando revealed more than he intended. She reminded herself that his squad was three days removed from combat. The blood on their hands was fresh. To her great relief, Ham Cortez exited the docking tube into the Scramjet’s cabin. He stopped, surveyed the pods where Hokkis slept, and proceeded to the navigation matrix.
“All proceeds well, I trust?” He asked Cando.
“It does, Admiral. Three more hours to calibrate.”
“And not a minute extra, please. We need to leave the system before fragile minds change their course.”
Ham motioned to the sleeping Hokkis, who grumbled the loudest before entering the still-seats. Kara wasn’t used to hearing doubt in the ex-Chancellor’s tone. He’d been in control of every moment they experienced together – even in the face of death. Yet he seemed more at peace then, wearing a traditional Sak’ne suit and hiding behind an ample beard and a long ponytail. Now, all three were gone. He resembled an officer in the old Unification Guard. His face was clean-shaven, his jawline rigid and uncompromising. His slick black hair, shaved above the ear, was parted in the center.
“You think they’ll be disruptive?” Kara asked.
“I think they’ll be homesick and lose sight of the objectives. I trust a sound sleep and a satisfying meal will soothe their anxiety. How was your long nap, Kara?”
“Refreshing, thanks. You might serve our cause by giving a little speech over the meal. You were very effective back at the Taron estate. They were ready to mutiny until you calmed them.”
“And if that fails,” Cando added, “we can always drop them off on Huryo. Less than a minute by Worm. My squad can handle the rough bits.”
“No doubt. If we encounter a tenacious and well-stocked enemy, we’ll send you lot to the front. But much of our mission may require a deft touch. Small blades hidden in wait. This is where Green Sun can be effective. It’s all speculation, of course, but I like to consider every permutation.”
Kara assumed “permutation” was code for “I have no idea what we’re facing and the more bodies we throw at it, the better our chances.” Every arrogant but insecure man she met summarized his feelings with outsized, evasive words.
“I also bring a message,” Ham continued. “RJ … uh, excuse me … your Colonel wishes to see you, Cando. I’ll work with Kara to wake the others and acclimate them before the dine. Yes?”
“Very good, Admiral.” He turned to Kara. “I’d appreciate the honor of dining at your side, if you can stomach the notion.”
“Happily. Thank you, Cando.”
When they were alone, Ham relaxed his shoulders.
“A new friend, I see?”
“It appears.”
“Good. The more we’re bonded, the greater our odds. But Kara,” he said, lowering his voice. “Be careful. Many of RJ’s team are blunt instruments who understand little beyond the art of killing. I saw those eyes in the most rabid soldiers of the Guard during my tours. Every moment is a struggle to hold onto their humanity. They have fought wars the likes of which the Guard never experienced.”
“You say they aren’t to be trusted? Won’t Ryllen keep them in line?”
“Their devotion to him is absolute. From what I’ve gleaned, RJ often sacrificed himself to save the unit. Benefits of immortality. He went so far as to appoint himself Colonel. Kara, I’ve always tried to protect RJ from himself. He displayed psychopathic tendencies from the first day we met, and I believe he loves being worshipped. So, you will understand when I say such a man cannot be trusted.”
Ham’s brutal honesty surprised Kara more than the facts. She did not forget how easily Ryllen slaughtered Ya-Li’s grandmother and great grandfather at her wedding while his team killed many others. She remembered the cold satisfaction he took in electrocuting dozens of officers of the KumTaan.
“We can’t trust him,” Kara said, “but we can’t do this without him.”
“He’s the key to it all. Now, aren’t you glad you came?”
2
D INNER WAS A MASTERPIECE Kara did not see coming. A traditional Hokki meal of Kohlna steak, sweet cabbage, and spiced mango tasted as good as anything from Syung-Low’s kitchen. Cando explained how these vessels were designed for the long haul, traversing systems for months. Simple programs in the food processors created brilliant meals.
“Soldiers fight more efficiently when they carry the taste of home on their tongues,” he said.
“Hokkaido wasn’t your home.”
“No, but I’m partial to it. The cities are nightmares, and the land is scarred, but the natives fight on, dreaming of days when they can eat like this.” He nodded toward three Hokki soldiers in black who seemed to take special pleasure in each bite of fish. “Now that they’ve seen a version of home without craters and ruins, they’ll fight even harder to preserve it.”
Kara scanned the cabin, where twenty-four people ate largely in silence. Two makeshift tables and a handful of swivels allowed the crew to face each other, more or less. It was Ham’s idea, she learned, but he should have taken the next step of assigning seats. The cabin was largely segregated by universe, with shining black armor dominating the starboard side and more modest Hokki bodysuits toward port.
