RESTLESS

AN AURORA RISING SHORT STORY

G. S. Jennsen

2015

RESTLESS

Copyright © 2015 by G. S. Jennsen.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the address below.

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Parker, Colorado 80134

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Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

The Hypernova Publishing name, colophon and logo are trademarks of Hypernova Publishing.

Ordering Information:

Hypernova Publishing books may be purchased for educational, business or sales promotional use. For details, contact the “Special Markets Department” at the address above.

Restless / G. S. Jennsen.—1st ed.

Space is vast and untamed, and it holds many secrets. Now two individuals from opposite ends of settled space are on a collision course with the darkest of those secrets, even as the world threatens to explode around them.

…or they will be, in about 8 years. Restless is a short story prequel to Starshine, Book One of the Aurora Rising trilogy.

Before Alex Solovy was a successful interstellar scout, she was building starships and planning for the day when she would fly one she called her own. Before Caleb Marano was wiping out the terrorist group who murdered his mentor, he was…wiping out terrorist groups who murdered shopkeepers and threatened his friends.

Catch a glimpse of Aurora Rising’s heroes while they were still becoming the individuals they will need to be in order to face the galactic threat which, for now, waits silently in the void.

When faced with its greatest challenge, will humanity rise to triumph or fall to ruin?

Aurora Rising is an epic tale of galaxy-spanning adventure, of the thrill of discovery and the unquenchable desire to reach ever farther into the unknown. It's a tale of humanity at its best and worst, of love and loss, of fear and heroism. It's the story of a woman who sought the stars and found more than anyone imagined possible.

COLONIZED MILKY WAY

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

Alexis ‘Alex’ Solovy

Starship pilot, scout and space explorer;

daughter of Miriam and David Solovy.

Faction: Earth Alliance

Caleb Marano

Special Operations intelligence agent,

Senecan Federation Division of Intelligence.

Faction: Senecan Federation

Kennedy Rossi

Ship Designer, IS Design;

friend of Alex Solovy.

Faction: Earth Alliance

Mia Requelme

Businesswoman;

friend of Caleb Marano.

Faction: Independent

Samuel Padova

Special Ops, SF Intelligence;

mentor of Caleb Marano.

Faction: Senecan Federation

Miriam Solovy (Admiral)

EA North American Logistics Director;

mother of Alex Solovy, widow of David Solovy.

Faction: Earth Alliance

RESTLESS

AN AURORA RISING SHORT STORY

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2314

(EIGHT YEARS BEFORE THE EVENTS OF STARSHINE)

EARTH

SAN FRANCISCO

“I QUIT.”

Alex Solovy rolled the words around in her mind, trying out different inflections and intonations and generally letting her brain grow comfortable with the notion. Not so much the words themselves as what they signified.

Freedom, in all its wondrous and terrifying splendor.

She was on pleasant terms with her boss at Pacifica Aerodynamics—if not necessarily her coworkers—and bore him and the enterprise he operated no particular ill will. The opposite in fact; it was a decent company as companies went, inasmuch as it hadn’t allowed two centuries worth of ship fabrication to weigh it down or stifle an innovative spirit.

No, unlike so many legions of corporate drones she wasn’t quitting because she hated her job. She was quitting because the job had always been nothing more than a means to an end—a way to gain a fulsome understanding of and skill in operating every conceivable system to be found on a starship, plus each one’s variations, quirks and maintenance requirements.

Two years before, she had left IS Design on Erisen because she had learned everything they had to teach her. Now she would leave Pacifica Aerodynamics for the same reason.

Seeing as they were the two premiere civilian starship manufacturers in the Earth Alliance, the only place where she could learn the remaining—and the most important—lessons was space itself.

She had also spent the previous four years of gainful employment saving every spare credit to pass through her account. Never one to spend frivolously on consumer trappings, she had trimmed her expenses to the bone by sharing a flat with Kennedy while on Erisen and, upon returning to San Francisco, renting a modest one-bedroom apartment in a once-and-not-yet-again-trendy neighborhood.

The savings had built up quickly, albeit not so quickly as her innate restlessness might have liked. And now ninety-five percent of those savings had been spent on a ship of her own.

Her ship.

She let those words roll around exquisitely in her mind as she went to break the good news to her boss.

SENECA

CAVARE, CAPITAL OF THE SENECAN FEDERATION

Caleb Marano flattened himself against the wall and readied the Daemon at his hip.

From the other side of the entrance Samuel counted down the seconds with his fingers. When the last finger dropped Samuel activated the door and they stormed into the room.

A makeshift office containing only a collapsible desk sitting askew and cartons stacked along both walls, the setting carried all the hallmarks of shady and transient criminal activity.

“Pascal Abelli, you are under arrest for blackmail and extortion of a government official. You may—”

“I don’t think so.” Abelli drew his own Daemon as footsteps pounded down the hallway behind them.

The investigation had fallen to the Division of Intelligence because there was some question as to whether a government official, Interior Director Orsi De Campo, had in truth engaged in the crime Abelli was blackmailing him to keep secret—selling Federation secrets to the Triene cartel. If the Director had not done so, the pertinent question became how classified material had found its way into Pascal Abelli’s hands.

Samuel shot Abelli before the gun made it halfway up. Caleb stayed by the entrance, waited a beat, then threw an elbow backwards to smash the face of the guard who burst through the doorway, knocking the man flat on his back as blood gushed from a crushed nasal septum.

He spun and fired as the guard tried to get up, confiscated the man’s gun and tossed it to Samuel. Next he crouched to search the now unconscious form for other weapons.

Laser fire streaked above his head. He lunged forward to tackle the second guard at the knees when the opposite wall turned red in a spray of blood propelled out of the hole burned through the man’s chest. The body collapsed to the floor.

After Caleb checked to confirm the hallway harbored no further attackers, he climbed to his feet and found Samuel lowering the gun Caleb had tossed to him, his personal shield sparking with residual energy dissipation.

“Guess his gun wasn’t set to stun. And I thought I might actually finish this op without having to kill anyone.”

“When was the last time that happened?”

“Too long ago to remember, seems like.” Samuel flipped Abelli’s prone body onto his stomach and secured his arms in wrist restraints. “This guy’s a lard-ass. Help me drag him out?”

Caleb wiped stray blood off his cheek using his shirt before grabbing hold of the unconscious man’s left arm. Together they hauled him past the two guards and down the hallway.

“Thanks for tagging along with me tonight—turns out I did need the backup. Logistics ought to be here by the time we get outside. I’d invite you to go get a beer or four, but I suspect I’m going to be ass-deep in red tape for hours. Killing politicians, their friends or even their enemies always means mountains of bureaucracy.”

A beer or four would serve well to calm the adrenaline still coursing hot through Caleb’s veins and the agitated energy which inevitably lingered longer than it should after such confrontations.

But there was more than one way to appease the restlessness.

“It’s all good. I’ve got plans on Romane later.” ‘Plans’ was perhaps a strong word, but Samuel didn’t need to know that. “Next time?”

Samuel grunted as they lugged Abelli around another corner. “Next time it is.”

ERISEN

EARTH ALLIANCE COLONY

“Are you ready?”

“For fuck’s sake, Ken, I’ve been waiting a month for the ship to be finished. I am beyond ready.”

Kennedy Rossi rolled her eyes as they approached one of the hangar bays at IS Design’s production facility. “I just don’t want you to faint when you see it or anything.”

“I’ve never fainted in my life. Why on Earth would I faint now?”

“Well….” Kennedy entered a code on the panel beside the interior bay entrance and let the door slide open.

Alex crossed the threshold, at which point all other thoughts vacated her mind as her perception narrowed, transfixed by the vision exposed before her.

The ship gleamed a charcoal two shades from black. All curves and edges, the broad midsection flared out to expansive wings which housed—or would soon house—a plethora of instruments and sensors. From an aesthetic viewpoint, the silhouette resembled an Indian Black Eagle preparing to swoop upon its prey.

Her gaze ran bow to stern and back again. Though a small vessel by any objective measure, here in the hangar it loomed large and powerful to dominate its environs.

“You’re blocking the door, Alex.”

“I know I’m blocking the door. Give me a minute.”

She had to credit the engineers. She had provided them a design, and they had brought it to life more vividly than it had ever existed in her imagination. A grin spread across her face as she at last approached the ship.

“You would not believe how much grumbling I caught from, well, everyone on the project. ‘Nobody makes ships like this,’ ‘We’ll never fit slots for so many instruments on the frame,’ ‘I’ve never even heard of this material’…on and on it went.”

Alex ignored her to run a hand along the hull, following it all the way to the sLume drive suspended beneath a gracefully tapered tail section. Though faster than eighty percent of civilian drives, it was a previous-generation model and the most she could afford right now.

Everything was designed with an affinity toward continual iterative transformation, though, and if all went according to plan she’d be able to upgrade it soon enough. This was the case for many of the on-board components: solid, quality last-gen equipment she intended would one day be replaced by the state of the art.

But the ship…the ship holding them was one of a kind.

She traced the hull to the hatch. Already keyed to her, it opened at her touch. She was vaguely cognizant of Kennedy trailing her up the ramp, then rather more cognizant of it when she halted at the top and Kennedy bumped into her and sent her skidding into the cabin.

She stood silently in the center of the cabin for several seconds…then she was laughing and twirling around in the cavernous open space like a carefree child. “Ken, look. This is amazing!”

Her best friend leaned against the cabin wall to watch the rare display of exuberance in amusement. “So it’s what you wanted?”

“Well, I’ll need to run diagnostics on the mechanical systems and confirm the HUD layout and test all the modules against my specs and I hope like hell the engineering core’s wiring isn’t a complete disaster…” she glanced at Kennedy to find her wearing a mock glare “…but yes. It’s exactly what I wanted. It’s—it’s everything I wanted. Thank you.”

“You are most welcome. But we hardly worked gratis. You paid my company bucket-loads of credits for it.”

“True, but those bucket-loads were a scintilla above cost, so I’ll double-down on the ‘thank you.’ I could not have commissioned this ship if it had included a retail markup.”

“You’ve given the designers here some clever ideas to pursue. I predict we will soon recoup the initial loss in profit.”

“Hmm.” Alex scrutinized the main cabin once more before arching an eyebrow. “Want to go somewhere? Take her for a test run?”

Kennedy made a show of considering the question. “Only if we go somewhere with top-shelf shopping. I need new shoes. Lots of new shoes.”

“Well I’m broke now, so I’ll be a poor shopping partner.”

“That’s fine, I don’t require an enabler. I’ll do plenty of buying for both of us.”

Alex pondered it a moment. “Romane?”

Kennedy’s face lit up. “Romane.”

ROMANE

INDEPENDENT COLONY

“Caleb, this is a surprise.” Mia Requelme’s lips curled up in an expression somewhere between delight and anticipation. “A pleasant one, naturally.”

He placed a kiss at her temple then stepped a respectful distance away, as they had an audience. “How are you? It’s been a few months.”

“I’m good. I signed a lease last week on a new retail location. I’m expanding the store.” She gestured at the cramped, cluttered space to emphasize the necessity of the act.

He wasn’t surprised. It had taken her a few months to get her feet under her after arriving on Romane, but once she had it was off to the races. In less than five years she had gone from renting a cubbyhole behind a flat to a five-room apartment, from trading secondhand gear in the flea market to owning a custom tech shop in an upscale neighborhood. And he suspected she was barely getting started.

Mia checked the two customers browsing her shelves then leaned in close to murmur in his ear. “I’m devastated to say I can’t leave for another five hours. I only have part-time help, and said help is currently on vacation.”

He chuckled; she had obviously deduced why he was here. “Well, I don’t—”

Mia’s eyes darted to the entrance, her expression darkening. He turned to see what had distracted her.

A man hovered a step inside the store. His scruffy appearance and grungy clothes set him apart from not only the other customers but everyone in a six-block radius. They marked him as a thug.

Caleb demanded the entrant’s attention with his eyes and held it hostage with a sharp, silent stare.

The man balked under the scrutiny. He glared at Mia and departed.

“So anyway—”

“What just happened?”

“Nothing. As I was saying—”

“Mia….”

She blew out an exasperated breath. “Don’t worry about it. It’s fine.”

Now he demanded her attention, though in a far softer manner. “Are you in some kind of trouble?”

“Not at all. I can take care of myself.”

“I know you can. So tell me what it was about.”

She drew him to the rear wall of the shop, farther from her customers’ hearing. “He’s an enforcer for this upstart local gang. They’ve gotten it in their heads they’re going to run a protection racket.” She sighed in blatant disgust. “Even here, at the center of a pillar of our civilization, there are still goons and delinquents lurking in the shadows.”

“Are you paying them?”

“No. But….”

“But?”

“I’m starting to think it may be better for me to simply do so and be done with it.” Her gaze slid away as she shifted her weight from one leg to the other. Her arms crossed over her chest. “They’re low-rent scum, but they have muscle. They’ve gotten violent against several of the more recalcitrant store owners. Two have ended up in the hospital, and…the last person who said ‘no’ more than twice ended up dead.”

“Okay, that’s it.” He pivoted toward the door, but was halted by her hand grasping his wrist.

“Caleb, please don’t. This isn’t your fight. The police are investigating, and if they don’t handle it, I will.”

“Mia, this is what I do. Let me help you.”

Dark irises glittered beneath long lashes pinched tight. The intensity of the look reminded him she was indeed a formidable woman. “You’ve already helped me enough for two lifetimes—given me the capability to live a life of my own—and I adore you for it. But you’ve done enough.” She studied his face. “Do you hear me?”

He nodded with an air of thoughtfulness, careful to project the impression he was taking her words to heart. “I hear you. Just watch yourself, will you?”

She smiled broadly, breaking the somber mood. “Always.”

He forced a devilish smirk. “So five hours, huh? All right, I’ll make myself scarce.” He drew her close and his lips found her ear. “I’ll come by later tonight. You haven’t moved your apartment, have you?”

“No, but who said I wanted you to come by tonight? Maybe I have a date.”

“Then I’ll come by after your date.” His teeth grazed her neck as he pulled back to find a glint in her eyes he recognized as assent. With a casual wave he left her to her customers and headed out.

Kennedy’s shopping bags were jammed under their patio table. Empty plates sat discarded to the side, a nearly-empty bottle of shiraz in the center. They took turns devouring an enormous slice of cheesecake drizzled in raspberries as the sky began darkening to a cool lavender. Romane’s two suns made for a very long if most lovely evening.

“So what are your initial plans for this new venture?”

Alex enjoyed savoring her bite of cheesecake before answering. “I have an appointment first of the week with the R&D Director of Suiren about mining for nanodiamonds in NGC 2027, and one the next day with a rep from the Gagarin Institute about scouting M10 for potentially habitable worlds.”

“You don’t waste any time, do you?”

“Hell, no. I’ve been preparing for this opportunity my whole life. I am ready to get on with it.”

“And you won’t get lonely, out there by yourself in the void for weeks at a stretch? Wait, what am I saying? This is you we’re talking about.” She paused to take another bite and wipe away the raspberry sauce left behind on her chin. “So did you tell your mother you left Pacifica to go freelance?”

Alex scowled over the top of her glass of shiraz. “As if she would care. She’s a newly-minted Admiral and on the shortlist to be the next EASC Director of Operations.”

“So…?”

“Yes, I sent her a message. In vintage Miriam Solovy fashion, she responded that she hoped I understood I bore the responsibility for my own foolish choices.”

“Well…nope, sorry, can’t defend her on this one. You’ve worked your ass off for four years—for a decade if you count earning multiple degrees—so you could make your dream a reality. She should respect what you’ve accomplished.”

Alex didn’t dispute the truth of the statement, though she did swallow a brief disquiet when Kennedy paid the check. She’d feel bad about it, except for the fact that while she wasn’t quite ‘broke’ by the most technical definition, the ship had eradicated her savings. And she didn’t have a proper job. Or any clients. Not yet.

So she decided not to feel bad about it. She and Kennedy had traded implicit debts which never needed to be repaid yet always were more times than she dared count over the years. This debt too was sure to come back around again eventually.

The instant Caleb exited Mia’s store his demeanor transformed. He traded the relaxed gait for a careful, alert posture and the friendly countenance for a cool mask.

It did not surprise him to see the enforcer exit a store three doors down a moment later. The man was making his scheduled rounds. When his target continued on he followed.

The sidewalk ferried a busy flow of young professionals out after work and tourists perusing the shops and restaurants. The thug’s distinctly unkempt appearance made him easy to track from a distance.

A line spilled out of a particularly popular Chinasian grill restaurant on the next corner. An expansive outdoor patio decorated in wrought iron and blooming alyssi blended into an open-air interior, and the place bustled with energy. In another circumstance he’d likely have wandered inside for stir-fry and a cold beer.

As he slipped past the busy entrance someone tripped into him. He stiffened, keeping the stranger at a safe distance until he realized the person was merely inebriated beyond public decency. He tried to stabilize the young man, but his efforts were for naught when the guy stumbled to the ground.

Caleb stepped away to avoid the prone figure and immediately bumped into someone else. Golden curls whipped past him as he muttered, “Excuse me.”

“Not a problem.”

At the sound of the rich, almost sultry voice he instinctively glanced back. The golden curls belonged to an attractive, poised young woman and were promptly forgotten when beyond her he caught a glimpse of tresses the color of fine Bordeaux and a flash of startlingly bright silver-gray eyes.

The sight was enough to hitch his gait for half a step, to overwhelm his mission for a frozen frame of time.

Then she was gone, and he resumed his tail.

The waitress cleared away the dessert plates and Kennedy gathered her bags up. Alex frowned as they wound into the restaurant from the patio and navigated a growing crowd near the exit. “You seriously need to be on Erisen by first thing in the morning?”

“I do. I have to work. You’ve been job-free for all of a day, surely you remember what ‘working’ means?”

“Sosi yego i past’ zakroi, suka.”

“Right, right.”

“Next thing I know you’re going to want to sleep in the big bed. First night on my shiny, brand new ship and I’m bunking on the guest cot.”

“Now that you mention it, I do need to be well-rested and refreshed for work in the morn—” Kennedy jostled into Alex’s side, pushed by someone bumping into her as they exited the busy doorway.

“Excuse me.” The deep, lilting voice resonated beneath the buzz of the patrons, sending a sensual tremor fluttering along Alex’s spine. Taken aback by the unexpected, visceral response, she blinked and forcibly shook it off.

“Not a problem.” Kennedy’s focus lingered over her shoulder as they reached the sidewalk. “He was handsome, in a rugged, ‘rock my world for a weekend’ sort of way.”

“Whatever. Come on, there’s a tech gear shop on the next block I want to check out.”

“I thought you were broke?”

“This is why they invented credit. I’m investing in my ship.”

“Clearly. Speaking of, have you decided what you’re going to name her?”

A whimsical smile grew to brighten Alex’s features as they strolled down the sidewalk in the slowly fading light. “Oh yes.”

Several blocks past the restaurant the ambience of the area began to shift. Meter by meter it became shabbier, darkening in sync with the evening sky. The crowd thinned and was replaced by working-class then barely working-class inhabitants. Finally Caleb’s opportunity came.

He increased his pace to draw near to his prey. As the enforcer crossed an alley between two shabby tenements he sprang, forcing the man down the alley, deep into the shadows and far from prying bystanders, and shoving his head into the stone.

Yanking the right arm up at an awkward angle flush against the man’s back, he held it at the end of its range of motion for a beat then thrust it upward from the elbow.

The man screamed in pain as the bone ripped out of the elbow and shoulder sockets and the tendons tore apart.

The other arm flailed at Caleb; he pinned it high on the wall, knifed his hand and slammed it forward. The crack was audible as the man’s forearm fractured under the blow.

In the next motion he wrenched his captive around and got in his face. “You are going to take me to the leaders of your little ‘gang’ and you are going to do it now.”

Beads of sweat drizzled down greasy skin, doubtless triggered by what must be fairly intense pain if not fear. “I can’t—”

“Don’t talk. Don’t sputter out a solitary protest or it will be your last. Take me to them.”

“Who the fuck are you?”

Caleb palmed the man’s forehead and slammed his skull against the wall. “I said don’t talk, and you want to do as I say because I’m the one thing monsters like you and your kind fear. I’m what haunts your nightmares and hunts you in the darkness. Now move.”

The man’s head jerked wildly, slinging greasy sweat in Caleb’s direction. He wiped the fluid off his chin then grabbed the arm flopping limply at his captive’s side and pointed to the street.

Their destination lay a few short blocks further to the west, which was probably for the best because his charge was not holding up well. He groaned and moaned and eventually begged for Caleb to punch him hard enough to render him unconscious. Caleb kept driving him forward.

When they stepped through the door to the hideout he tossed his captive to the side and drew his Daemon.

Three men sat around a table. All were muscled and similarly greasy and easily identifiable as scum. As he breached the entrance all three were moving, drawing their own guns in surprise.

Only one got off a shot. Caleb had put a laser through the skulls of the other two before their arms had fully raised.

The third man wore a minimal personal shield and weathered Caleb’s first volley to return fire.

The shots bounced harmlessly off his own shield. He advanced while firing into the gangster’s chest. The laser overloaded the cheap shield to blow the man’s chest open.

Ozone permeated the air to scorch his nostrils. He stood silently in the center of the room and allowed the scene to settle to its conclusion.

The body collapsed to the floor to join its companions, leaving the far wall free to reveal its gory tableau. The sound of glass cracking followed the thud of the corpse. A display panel on the desk behind the bodies, grazed by the gunfire, teetered and fell.

Another breath…in and out…and he was moving. After checking for immediate threats he went over to where the panel had landed.

A visual flickered, distorted in the damaged display, but he discerned a woman and a small boy. The woman was pretty in a mildly trashy way, sporting a crooked grin and too-blonde hair. The boy looked three or four and clearly favored his mother.

All the adrenaline abandoned him in a rush, leaving his shoulders sagging and the gun dangling from his hand.

They were thugs and bullies and murderers. They preyed on the weak and stole from those who worked rather than work themselves. They used fear as a weapon to impose their will on others. And they had pointed guns at him.

Yet a traitorous voice in his mind whispered that he had provoked the encounter; he had stormed into their lair, gun drawn. Yes, they would have killed him, but in the present situation perhaps only because he would have done—and did—the same to them.

Caleb didn’t know which of the dead men the woman was attached to or which might be the father of the boy. For an instant it was the only question that mattered.

He snatched the display off the floor, spun on a heel and strode to the enforcer who had brought him here, now sprawled in a pile on the floor. He crouched and nudged him onto his back without a response. The man had passed out. Annoyed, Caleb slapped him awake.

As soon as an eyelid opened he grabbed the man’s shirt and lifted him up to shove the display in his face. “Do you know this woman?”

He nodded vaguely, eyes bleary and unfocused.

“What is her name?”

“Tam—Tamatha Baker.”

Caleb buried the tumult he had briefly allowed to flare, and his bearing took on an uncanny stillness. He smiled.

“This is your lucky day. You get to live—on one condition, so listen carefully. Your sole purpose from this day forward is to watch over Tamatha and her son and make certain neither of them come to harm. Use your meager, pathetic skills to protect them. Do you understand me?”

The man’s eyes widened until they were all whites. A bead of sweat rolled down his forehead and merged with a trickle of blood to weave down his cheek and splatter onto his shirt. He nodded again, more definitively this time.

“If you fail in this task I will know, and I will come back and end your life as effortlessly as I ended theirs. Remember that whenever you start thinking you can slack off.” He stared at the man another second to guarantee the message had been received, then dropped him to the floor and stood. “I’ll send the paramedics and the cops in a few minutes. Make sure you don’t get yourself arrested—can’t do your job from prison.”

“Why? Why did you kill them?”

Caleb laughed, and even he recognized it bore a frightening coldness. “Because you walked through the wrong door, and they paid you to do it. Mia Requelme is off limits. You will be a testament to the terror that arrives the moment you or anyone else crosses the invisible line you didn’t know existed until tonight. Spread the word.”

ERISEN

EARTH ALLIANCE COLONY

The Siyane banked to soar above snow-capped mountains as the dawn sun glittered off the powdery crystals. The sky shone a perfect turquoise blue.

Alex had deposited Kennedy at the spaceport moments earlier, somewhat less refreshed and well-rested than requested. But it had been an enjoyable night. She stifled a yawn as she gained altitude and approached the nearest atmosphere corridor, but a smile replaced it. A couple of minutes remained for her to decide her destination once she hit space.

It was a subversive notion, the idea that she was free. Free to choose where to go and what to do with her time.

She wasn’t a goldbricker. She intended to run a business and had crucial appointments the next week she intended to keep.

But at the conclusion of those appointments she would choose to take the jobs or not. If she took the jobs she would choose how best to fulfill the contracts. The path between the agreement and the delivery was hers to chart. She would succeed or fail on her own merits; her rise or fall would be of her own making.

Until then she had six days to herself, nothing but her ship and the expanse of space to distract her.

The ship exited the atmosphere corridor. The sky darkened to onyx and the stars brightened to opalescent ivory. Her father’s words from so long ago echoed in her mind.

Siyane is perfect, sweetheart. My little star shining brightly. One day, milaya, the cosmos will be yours to tame. One day you will hold the galaxy in the palm of your hand. I know it.

She killed the lights in the cabin and stood to take in the view as the fullness of space spread before her.

Her head tilted in contemplation. Could she make it to Carina and get back to Earth in six days? She double-checked the parameters on the sLume drive…yep, she absolutely could. Six days round-trip for a spectacular view? Worth it.

Now clear of Erisen Traffic Control, she ran a quick safety check then engaged the sLume drive. The stars blurred away to surround the ship in a soft halo.

Hey Dad? I made it. I made it to the stars.

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STARSHINE

AURORA RISING BOOK ONE

AVAILABLE NOW

Space is vast and untamed, and it holds many secrets. Now two individuals from opposite ends of settled space are on a collision course with the darkest of those secrets, even as the world threatens to explode around them.

The year is 2322.

Humanity has expanded into the stars, inhabiting over 100 worlds across a third of the galaxy. Though thriving as never before, they have discovered neither alien life nor the key to utopia. Earth struggles to retain authority over far-flung planets and free-wheeling corporations while an uneasy armistice with a breakaway federation hangs by a thread as the former rebels rise in wealth and power.

Alexis Solovy is Earth Alliance royalty, her father a fallen war hero and her mother an influential military leader. But she seeks only the freedom of space and has made a fortune by reading the patterns in the chaos to discover the hidden wonders of the stars.

Nothing about her latest objective suggests the secret it conceals will turn her life— not to mention the entire galaxy—upside down. But a chance encounter with a mysterious spy leads to a discovery which will thrust Alex into the middle of a galactic power struggle and a sinister conspiracy, whether she likes it or not.

When faced with its greatest challenge, will humanity rise to triumph or fall to ruin?

Aurora Rising is an epic tale of galaxy-spanning adventure, of the thrill of discovery and the unquenchable desire to reach ever farther into the unknown. It's a tale of humanity at its best and worst, of love and loss, of fear and heroism. It's the story of a woman who sought the stars and found more than anyone imagined possible.

PROLOGUE

The end of the world began with a library query.

…or perhaps it was the space probe. The alien was being vexingly reticent on the matter, the man thought as he straightened his dinner jacket in the mirror.

“She is hardly the first person to express an interest in that region of space. Why are you so worried about her when the others didn’t concern you?”

The others did concern us, but they were deflected with little difficulty. This woman, however, has exhibited a notable talent for discovering what others cannot. As such, we would prefer she never look.

The man smoothed out a crease in one of the sleeves then fastened the antique pearl cufflinks, an heirloom passed down to him from a grandfather that never was. “Do you want me to have her killed?”

Not unless alternative methods are unsuccessful. Her death could cause the opposite effect of drawing further unwanted attention.

The man nodded cursorily and stepped out of the washroom, crossing his spacious office to the windows lining the far wall. “Very well. I’ll work to ensure she’s distracted from this pursuit. What about the Senecans?”

They are a more troublesome problem as they have already discovered an anomaly exists. They will send others to investigate.

From the top floor of the Earth Alliance Headquarters building the man could see guests beginning to arrive in the gardens below. Another ten minutes and it would be appropriate for him to join them. He frowned, brushing a piece of lint off his lapel before he turned from the windows to face where the alien might have stood, were he actually here. “You know there’s little I can do about them for the moment.”

You needn’t concern yourself with the matter. Other resources are at our disposal.

“I’m sure. And remember, you only need stall them for a short while. Soon everyone will be distracted, and humanity will be focused inward for quite some time.”

Go forward with your plan. We hope you accomplish your objectives. Nonetheless, events are converging rapidly and they are not all within your control. Escalation may be unavoidable.

The man pulsed his wife to let her know he would meet her in the lobby shortly. “At least give me the opportunity to alter our course before you act. It won’t be long now.”

Certainly. Know, however, that the precipice is upon you; it may already have been crossed.

Preparations have begun.

1

EARTH

SEATTLE

“Alex, I’m ready when you are.”

“One more second…okay, Charlie, go ahead.” The muffled response came from within the hull.

The young mechanic wove the crystalline fiber of a conduit into the power control grid. It took only seconds. He squinted into the magnification overlay to confirm the contact points. “All set.”

“Here goes nothing.”

Colonel Richard Navick watched from the entry of the hangar bay as a shimmer passed over the smooth, midnight black exterior of the ship.

Even marred by the docking clamps, the Siyane was sleek and graceful, with sweeping curves that converged on acute edges. Technical instruments and sensors were tucked discreetly under the wing-like midsection while the sLume drive was an elusive shadow beneath the tapered tail. The elegant lines disguised its size. Fully forty-two meters from bow to stern, it was enormous—at least for a personal scout ship.

He cleared his throat to announce his presence and stepped into the bay. “Alex, are you in there somewhere?”

A head dropped out of the belly of the ship. It was upside down and encircled by the orbiting screens of a holographic interface. “Richard, is that you?”

“Guilty as charged.”

A pair of long legs appeared next as she swung out of the exposed engineering well and dropped a meter to land nimbly on the floor of the bay. The interface winked out of existence.

He was struck—as he always was after he hadn’t seen her for some time—by how much she looked like her father. Tall and slender, with high, distinctive cheekbones and bright silver-gray eyes, she cut almost as dramatic a figure as David Solovy once had. In fact, the sole feature of note she had inherited from her mother was the thick, dark mane of hair. Whereas David’s had been dusky blond, hers was the color of fine aged Bordeaux.

It was also currently twisted up in a messy knot, flyaway strands escaping to soften her features. She wiped streaks of a viscous gel off her hands and onto snug black workpants as she jogged over.

When she reached him she embraced him in a quick hug born of years of familiarity. “It’s been too long, Richard.”

“If you would stay in this sector for longer than a week at a time, I might actually get to see you once in a while.”

Her eyes rolled a little as she settled onto her back leg. “Ah, no can do, I’m afraid. All the fun’s out there.” A corner of her mouth quirked up in a tease of a grin. He believed her.

“So I hear. All the money too, apparently.” He jerked his head toward the gleaming hull.

Her face instantly lit up; it often did when she was talking about her ship. “I just painted on a new f-graphene alloy lattice. It will reduce drag by another twelve percent, which will mean faster travel using less fuel.”

“Nice….” The reduction from pico- to femto-scale alloys had only become commercially available nine months earlier; he shuddered to think of the credits she must have forked over for the new lattice. “We should have the budget to roll those out to the fleet in a decade or so.”

She shrugged as if to say ‘your loss’ and met his gaze. For most people it would have been an uncomfortable experience. “So is this a social call? As glad as I am to see you—and I really am—I’m kind of in the middle of installing a stealth system upgrade. We could maybe have dinner this evening if you’d like?”

He mentally braced himself for the reaction he knew would be coming. “You caught me. It’s not entirely a social call. Your mother wants you to come by the office if you have any free time this afternoon.”

Her pupils constricted, the tiny flash of an ocular implant a hint she was checking her comms. They quickly focused back on him, bearing more than a little less warmth. “I don’t have a message from her.”

“I know. She thought the likelihood of you responding would increase considerably if I came in person.”

An eyebrow arched. “She have you running her errands for her now? Isn’t that a bit below your pay grade?”

“No. I volunteered, because I wanted to see you.”

She smiled with what he recognized as kindness, but it was transitory to her glance over her shoulder at the ship that dominated the hanger. “Well, sorry, but I can’t. I have to run diagnostics on the new dampener field and recalibrate the power system ratios. Assuming everything tests out okay, then I have to secure the fiber line to the hull and shield it.”

His gaze flitted pointedly to the young man swinging in a harness near the stern of the ship. “Can’t your mechanic do some of those things for you?”

At her deepening frown his brow creased in beseechment. “Please? For me? It’ll only take an hour or two, and it…” he knew saying it would make her mother happy would be counterproductive “…will make my life rather easier.”

Her eyes narrowed; her arms stiffened against her chest to complete the impression of staunch resoluteness. But this was not the first time he had faced down her defiant glare. He relaxed his posture, softened his expression and met her scowl with a pleasant smile.

After several seconds she exhaled to striking effect, all the tension leaving her body with the exaggerated breath. For just a moment she reminded him of the impish little girl she had once been.

“Fine. For you. I’m going to regret it, though.”

Alex stared out the window of the skycar while they cruised above Puget Sound before veering northwest over the Straight toward Vancouver Island. The unbroken line of skyscrapers to the right shone in the late morning sun from horizon to horizon, all polished silvers and whites flecked by deep green where the scrupulously maintained trees and numerous parks peeked through.

It was and had always been a beautiful view…but she was being a poor companion. She gave up steeling herself for what was sure to be the latest in a long line of unpleasant visits with her mother and shifted from the window to look at Richard.

Her parents’ oldest and closest friend, she had known him for as long as she could recall, which was to say about thirty-five years. He was one of the very few people who had consistently accepted her for who and what she was—didn’t want more from her, didn’t helpfully suggest what her life should be like, didn’t tsk disapprovingly at even her most unorthodox activities.

“So what’s new with you? Work okay? How’s Will doing?”

He relaxed in his seat and let the car auto-navigate the crowded airlanes. “Will is good, but busy. He’s been on Shi Shen for the last month overseeing the construction of the new Suiren headquarters and finally got home day before yesterday. I’ll tell him you said hello.”

The muscles in his jaw clenched briefly, which was generally the extent of his outward signals of displeasure. “Work is rather tense, what with the Trade Summit coming up.”

She gave him a blank look. “What is a Trade Summit and why is it coming up? Help me out here….”

“Right, you don’t spend much time obsessing about the oh-so-fascinating machinations of galactic politics. The Trade Minister and his entourage will be attending a conference with the Senecan Trade Director—at a carefully selected neutral location naturally, on Atlantis.” He sighed, his gaze drifting upward to grimace at the heavens. “It’s ostensibly an olive branch intended to thaw relations with the Federation a bit, but I’m afraid in reality it’s going to be little more than a media circus.”

“And your people will be spying on the Senecan delegation, hacking their data streams every chance they get while fending off the same from their agents.” Her teasing smirk served to emphasize the point.

His mouth worked to suppress a grin but mostly failed. “I can neither confirm nor deny any such suppositions on the grounds it would violate Earth Alliance security.”

“Of course….” The car dropped through a thin layer of mist which hadn’t yet burned off and skimmed above the choppy waves as the sprawling Earth Alliance Strategic Command complex came into view.

Stretching for three square kilometers across the southernmost tip of the Island, a network of midrise buildings, plazas and hangars fanned out from the towering structure that constituted the headquarters for what were, as a group, the most powerful men and women in the settled Milky Way. For better or worse, this included the EASC Director of Operations.

She could feel her expression tightening with every meter of their descent onto the open platform jutting out a third of the way up the headquarters building. “So how is the Admiral these days? As cheery as ever?”

He shook his head wryly, killed the engine and climbed out of the car. “She’s the same as usual, busily supervising the entire organization while breaking in yet another new secretary.”

“Lovely.” She matched his stride to the glass-floored lift, not bothering to grasp the rail as it whisked them up a quarter kilometer to the command staff offices which comprised the top ten floors. After they had cleared the security scanners and were inside, she turned to him.

Though her mood was already darkening beneath the shadow of the looming encounter, she forced herself to smile with genuine warmth. “You better get on out of here before I start blaming you for ruining my day, especially when it was good to see you.”

He laughed and patted her on the shoulder then headed toward his office down the opposite hall. “Try not to be too much of a stranger, okay?”

She waved him off as she crossed the overly bright atrium and stepped through the wide doorway into the EASC Operations suite.

The man behind the desk glanced up as she approached. After a blink his eyes widened precipitously. “You’re her, aren’t you? Ms—I mean Captain—Solovy. Ma’am.”

She draped an arm on the high counter. “It’s not a military title. ‘Ms.’ is fine. Would you please let my mother know I have answered her summons and eagerly await being granted the favor of an audience?”

The man—a 2nd Lieutenant according to the bars on his uniform—stared at her in horror, brow furrowing and unfurrowing in mounting panic. “Um, do you want me to say that, specifically, ma’am? I’m not certain the Admiral will—”

“Just tell her that her daughter is here.”

“Absolutely. Right away.”

She wandered over to inspect the newest addition to the artwork decorating the lobby. This secretary was unlikely to last any longer than the last one had. Even the most hardened soldier wilted in the face of her mother’s disapproving glare.

She was pondering how many credits the military must have wasted on the spectacularly bad hack Picasso rip-off when the secretary informed her she could go in now. She walked in the large but spartan office to observe without surprise that nothing about it had changed in the near year since she had last visited.

Admiral Miriam Solovy didn’t immediately turn her attention from the display panel in her hand. Her hair was drawn back in a severe bun; her uniform was crisp, its buttons spit-polished. When her gaze did rise to acknowledge Alex’s presence, a tight, thin facsimile of a smile passed across her face for the minimum time required. “You look a wreck.”

Ah, as kind and doting as always. She shrugged. “I was working.”

“I see. Would you like some tea?”

“Water’s fine,” which she proceeded to go to the cabinet and get herself.

“How are you, dear?”

Alex took a long sip from the marbled glass tumbler and leaned in deliberate casualness beside the teak bookcase filled with antique texts on military and political history. “Fine. Busy. You?”

The tiny vein in her mother’s left temple pulsed. She traded the screen for a teacup. “As well as can be expected. The Fionava Province has been a nuisance of late. I would share the details with you, but of course the parking attendant has a higher security clearance than you do.”

The tenor with which the statement was delivered seemed to imply it was somehow a failing on her part. “Alas.”

Miriam took a slow, measured sip of her tea then stared pensively into the dainty cup, as though it would magically supply her a suitable topic for small talk. “I ran into Malcolm at the Cascades Memorial Charity Auction last week. And met his new wife.”

She needed a wiser teacup. Alex raised a studiously unimpressed eyebrow. “I’m sure she was lovely.”

“Not so lovely as you, I must say, but attractive enough. He asked about you.”

Her eyes flickered over to the window…shit. She bit back a cringe at the display of weakness, not wanting to compound the error. “And what did you tell him?”

“The truth—that you’re still gallivanting around the galaxy, raking in millions and pouring it all back into that damnable ship of yours.” She paused, undoubtedly for dramatic effect. “I do believe he looked a little morose at the notion.”

Alex groaned and plopped down in the hard, purposefully uncomfortable chair opposite the desk. She pulled one knee up to hug against her chest. “I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume you didn’t ask me here in order to throw failed love affairs in my face. It’s a long list and I haven’t the time. What do you want?”

Miriam placed the teacup on the hutch behind her and sat as well, rigid-straight spine not touching the back of the comparably luxurious chair. “I can’t simply want to spend time with my only child?”

“You can—but you don’t.”

Her mother’s shoulders squared with military precision, an indication she wouldn’t argue the point. “Very well. I asked you here to share a wonderful opportunity for you. The Minister for Extra-Solar Development contacted me yesterday. He finds himself with a vacancy in his department. Apparently the Director of Deep Space Exploration is resigning to ‘pursue other endeavors,’ and the Minister would like to offer the post to you.”

A flashing pinpoint of light in the corner of Alex’s eVi signaled the delivery of the diagnostics she had set to run before departing the hangar. Her right pupil constricted to start the results scrolling on her whisper. “Prestigious position.”

If her mother noticed the somewhat unfocused nature of her gaze, she hid it well. “It’s not nepotism. While you lack oversight experience, you’re otherwise more than qualified.”

“More qualified than the parking attendant at least.” The whisper blurred out of focus and auto-paused as she directed a sharpened gaze toward the woman on the other side of the desk. Her mother couldn’t seem to decide whether to scowl or laugh; the result was an uncommonly animated expression. “But what exactly of everything you know about me says ‘government desk job’?”

“It’s not a desk job. You’ll need to travel to evaluate new discoveries several times a year, I’m quite sure.”

“Several times a ye—” her nose scrunched up in disdain “—you know what, never mind.”

“So you’ll consider it then.”

The whisper snapped back into focus…she frowned at the percentages displayed. A blink and a small aural materialized, and the diagnostics data began flowing in greater precision and detail twelve centimeters beyond her right eye. “No.”

Her mother’s jaw clacked shut at the response. Or because of the aural. Possibly both. “I didn’t say accept it unconditionally, merely consider it.”

Damn, there must be a power leak somewhere along the fiber. She pulsed Charlie to send the bot in to inspect the line. The dampener had to be a minimum of twenty-eight percent more effective or it wasn’t worth the diamond picocrystals which generated it. Her last find had almost been snaked out from under her because Terrence Macolly, too much of a lazy ass to do his own work, had tracked her emission signature and followed her into the asteroid ring orbiting Delta Lacertae. She didn’t intend to risk a repeat intrusion. “No.”

“Alexis—”

Her mouth twitched, though her focus didn’t shift from the data this time. “You know I hate it when you call me that.”

“I have every right to call you by your birth name. I am the one who gave it to you after all.”

Alex spared a brief, withering glance. Her mother’s eyes were averted downward, ostensibly studying the patterns of foam in her tea, perchance for more lousy ideas. When she spoke again, her tone was softer and no longer quite the voice of The Admiral.

“Your father was the first one to call you ‘Alex.’”

She shut off the aural in frustration. “Don’t you think I know that?”

“Yes, well.” Miriam’s chin notched upward. “I think you should reconsider the Minister’s offer. It is a position of some prominence and will provide a measure of stability you could benefit from.”

She snorted. “I realize you’re used to dictating people’s lives to them around here, but you don’t get to make my decisions for me. You haven’t for a long, long time.”

Miriam nodded with measured grace, appearing to acknowledge for the moment, Alex had the upper hand. “Perhaps it was…inconsiderate of me to insist you come here.”

“To order Richard to deliver your summons and drag me before you, you mean?”

She raised a hand in mild protest. “Richard wanted the chance to see you. I hope you don’t blame him for any unpleasantness.”

“Oh, I don’t. I blame you.”

To her credit, her mother was nearly impossible to provoke. If anything, her expression softened in response to the barb. “I’m not trying to tell you how to live your life. But I worry about you, out there all alone in deep space. That ship of yours is too powerful for one person to handle.”

Yet even in her attempt at kindness or at least civility, she managed to choose the exact wrong thing to say.

Deep down, Alex knew it probably wasn’t intentional. But there was too much—too many hateful words and spiteful reactions to them, too much water under a broken bridge—and she had no desire to grasp at a tenuous thread only to have it fray and dissolve like all the others.

“The past eight years would beg to differ with you. With all due respect, you have no idea just how much I can handle.” She stood abruptly. “Is there anything else?”

“No. Not when you won’t listen to reason.”

She didn’t rise to the bait. She simply wanted to be gone. “If you’d like, I will send a graciously worded response to the Minister thanking him for the honor of considering me but regretfully declining due to other obligations.”

“That won’t be necessary. I’ll inform him.”

“Suit yourself.” She pivoted and headed for the door.

“Alexis?”

She paused mid-stride—an inborn response to a mother’s plea—but didn’t look back.

“At least be careful out there.”

A tight nod and she was gone.

It was well past twenty-three hundred when Alex got home. The bot had found two micro-imperfections in the fiber which had to be rewoven. Then the diagnostics had to be run again, the ware re-modded, and the power system ratios recalibrated again before she closed the ship up for the night. Securing the line to the hull and shielding it would have to wait until the morning.

She opened a bottle of Swiss cabernet and left it to breathe while she ran through the shower, then combed out her hair and slipped on a silk robe to wear back downstairs.

A glass of the cabernet in hand, she stepped out onto the balcony. The glittering night lights of the city spread out beneath her, the light reflecting off the full moon mirrored in the Sound beyond.

She didn’t pour all her profits into her ship. The loft eighty stories above downtown had cost more than a few credits; the custom tech installed in it nearly as much again. Though she was only here maybe three months out of a given year, she wasn’t above enjoying at least a few of the finer things her income now afforded her.

As the glass touched her lips her thoughts drifted to Malcolm. She hadn’t done so in some time, but after the mention of him today quite a few memories had crept to the forefront of her mind. Most of them were good…she had loved him, after all.

But according to him she loved her ship more, and that was something he couldn’t accept. And since he was mostly right, she hadn’t fought him when he left.

She had missed him for a while, missed his warm smile and tender yet expert touch. But she had also welcomed the absence of the invisible leash which had tugged her back to Earth more often than she liked, which had whispered of duties to another and required explanations and justifications for every excursion. And eventually even the good memories had faded into the background, replaced by the thrill of new endeavors.

Her thoughts continued to linger on the past as she walked inside and her gaze fell to the far wall of the open room that constituted the entirety of the loft, save for the kitchen and the elevated sleeping area overlooking the main floor.

It was decorated in visuals she had captured in her travels across the galaxy. They included a supernova in bright, perpetual explosion, a comet on a flyby of a crescent moon, the slow pulse of a ghostly blue and lavender nebula and the gamma flare of a neutron star.

Those and others framed the centerpiece of the wall: a panoramic side-on image of the Milky Way, taken far from the light pollution of any suns or haze of any nebulae. Trillions of stars shone and sparkled to converge on the brilliance of the galactic core.

Malcolm hadn’t been exactly right. Yes, she loved her ship more than she had loved him. But what she loved even more was what it gave her: freedom, and the key to the marvels of space. It gave her the stars, and she doubted she could ever love anything or anyone more than she loved the stars.

Speaking of…she refilled her glass and settled onto the couch. She sent a passcode to the control interface and the opposite wall dissolved into a three-dimensional holo of the nearest quadrant of the galaxy. A slight wave of her hand and it zoomed into the Metis Nebula and its environs.

Near to but definitively outside Federation-controlled territory and on the outer edge of explored space, it would take her five days to reach the periphery—far less time than most, but still a trek. It was an allegedly uninteresting, ordinary plerion wrapped in an ancient, gas-heavy supernova remnant which had stubbornly refused to dissipate into the interstellar medium.

But she had made a small fortune by seeing what others did not. The ‘experts’ had said the Lacertae asteroid ring was nothing but dead rocks until she had found the ultra-rare heavy metals in the cores of the largest ones. Now Astral Materials was using it to develop frames for space stations they claimed would be strong enough to withstand a Type Ia supernova shockwave.

The golden-blue glow of Metis had caught her attention several excursions ago and had danced and thrummed at the edge of her consciousness ever since. Now flush with the considerable proceeds of the Lacertae find and the resultant ship upgrades, she figured she could afford to indulge a hunch for a month or so.

Her eyes widened deliberately, pupils dilated and ocular implant flashing as she simultaneously reviewed the data she had pulled in her library query of the scientific archives—which was appallingly sparse—scrolling up her eVi, the rotating full-spectrum image of the Nebula, and her own data flowing alongside it.

“Well, you lovely, mysterious Metis…what secrets do you have to show me?”

2

SENECA

CAVARE, CAPITAL OF THE SENECAN FEDERATION

The kinetic blade slid into the man’s throat like a knife through butter. Caleb held him securely from behind as the blood began to flow and the man jerked and spasmed.

He generally preferred clean, painless deaths. But he wanted to watch this man die, and die slowly.

When the man had lost all motor function, Caleb dumped him onto the desk and flipped him over. Eyes wide with fear, confusion and outrage met his. The man’s lips contorted in a caricature of speech, though no words came out.

He had a good idea of the intended utterance. Why. It was a question easily answered. Vengeance.

“Justice.”

As the pool of blood spread across the desk and formed waterfalls to the floor below, the eyes belonging to the leader of the Humans Against Artificials terrorist organization glazed over. The last spark of life within them dimmed, then went out.

One down.

Caleb Marano stepped out of the spaceport into the cyan-tinged glow of a late afternoon sun reflecting off the polished marble tiles of the plaza. The chill breeze caressing his skin felt like a welcome home. Cavare was always cool and often cold; Krysk had been a veritable oven by comparison.

He descended the first set of stairs and angled toward the corner to get clear of the bustling thoroughfare, then relaxed beside the ledge to wait for his companions.

Isabela exited the spaceport a moment later. She held a bag in one arm and a fidgeting bundle of arms, legs and long, dark curls in the other. She looked disturbingly ‘momish’ as she struggled to brush out Marlee’s tangled hair—but he could remember when she had been that little girl with long, dark curls…and it wasn’t so long ago.

With a groan she gave up the futile endeavor and allowed her daughter to escape her grasp and make a beeline for Caleb.

He crouched to meet Marlee at eye level. She plowed into him with almost enough force to knock him over backwards. He would’ve laughed but for the forlorn look in her pale turquoise eyes.

“Do you have to go away now, Uncle Caleb?”

He tousled her curls into further disarray. “Yeah, I’m afraid I have to go back to work. But it sure was great spending my vacation with you. I learned a lot.”

She wore her best serious face as she nodded sagely. “You had a lot to learn.”

He grinned and leaned in to whisper to his co-conspirator. “You remember what all we talked about, right?”

Her eyes were wide and honest. “Uh-huh.”

“Good. Want one more ride before I go?”

Her head bobbed up and down with gusto, instantly that of a carefree child again.

“Okay.” He scooped her up in his arms and stood, made certain he had a solid grasp of her tiny waist, and began to spin around with accelerating speed. Her arms and legs dangled free to swing through the air while she cackled in delight.

After another few spins he slowed—he had learned her limits during the last few weeks—letting her limbs fall against him before he came to a stop. He gave her a final squeeze and gently set her to the ground as her mother reached them.

Isabela wore a half-amused, half-exhausted expression as Marlee started running in dizzy circles around her legs. “Sorry about the hold up. They let us back on the transport and we found Mr. Freckles under the seat.” She patted her bag in confirmation of the stuffed animal’s now secure location. “Are you sure you don’t want to have a quick dinner with us?”

He responded with a dubious smirk. “You can be polite if you like, but the truth is you are sick to death of me and counting the minutes until you are at last rid of me.”

“Well, yes. But I never know when I’ll get to see you again….” The twinkle faded from her eyes, replaced by something darker and heavier.

She knew he didn’t work for a shuttle manufacturing company, and he knew that she knew. But they never, ever, talked about it. Partly for her safety and his, but partly because he preferred to continue being in her mind the strong, stalwart older brother with the easygoing demeanor and wicked sense of humor, without introducing any moral grayness to the relationship dynamic.

Because he never wanted her to look at him with caution, disillusionment…or worst of all, fear.

He merely nodded in response. “I’ll come visit again soon. Promise.”

She reached down to pause the cyclone at her legs. “I’ll hold you to it. I’m going to take Marlee to see Mom, then we’ll head back home.”

He leaned over the struggling cyclone to embrace her. “Thank you for the extended hospitality. I’m glad I was able to spend so much time with you.”

“Anytime, I mean it,” she whispered in his ear. “Stay safe.”

He kept his shrug mild as he stepped away. “Of course.” Not likely.

Two insistent and tearful hugs from Marlee later, they parted ways. He watched them disappear into the throng of travelers, then headed in the direction of the parking complex.

Caleb stepped in the adjoining lavatory and washed the blood off his hands and forearms. Then he returned to the office, reached under the corner of the desk and triggered the ‘Alert’ panic signal—the one he had never allowed the dead man to reach. There was a surveillance cam hidden in the ceiling, and he looked up at it and smiled. He had a number of smiles in his repertoire; this was not one of the more pleasant ones.

The commotion began as he exited the building. He quickened his stride to his bike, jumped on and fired the engine. Three men bolted out the door, two Daemons and a TSG swinging in his direction.

It wouldn’t do to get shot. A flick of his thumb and the bike burst out of the parking slot. He laid it down as laser fire sliced barely a meter overhead, his leg hovering centimeters above the ground while he slid around the corner and onto the cross-street.

He heard them giving chase almost immediately. So late in the night the street and air traffic was sparse, which was one reason he had begun the op when he did. It reduced the chances of his pursuers taking out innocent bystanders—and gave them a clearer line of sight to him. He wanted to make certain they knew where he was going before he left them behind.

Their surface vehicles didn’t stand a chance of matching his speed and it would look suspicious if he slowed…but as anticipated, they had grabbed a skycar. He kept an eye on it via the rearcam, making sure it succeeded in following him through two major direction shifts.

Satisfied, he kicked the bike into its actual highest gear and accelerated right then left, fishtailing around two street corners in rapid succession. He activated the concealment shield. It didn’t render him or the bike invisible, but it did make them blend into the surroundings and virtually impossible to track from the air at night.

Then he sped toward the Bahia Mar spaceport. After all, he did need to get there ahead of them.

Tiny flecks of light sparkled in the night-darkened waters of the Fuori River as Caleb pulled in the small surface lot. It was nearly empty, as most people took the levtrams to the entertainment district and had no need of parking.

Once the engine had purred into silence he swung a leg off the bike and glanced up. A smile ghosted across his face at the dozens of meteors streaking against the silhouette of the giant moon which dominated Seneca’s sky.

He noted the time. He had a few minutes to enjoy a little stargazing, though the conditions were far from ideal here in the heart of downtown. An exanet query confirmed the meteor shower continued for eleven days. Maybe he’d have a chance to get up to the mountains before it ended.

Committed to this plan, he secured the bike in its slot. A last glance at the sky and he crossed the street and took the wide steps to the riverwalk park.

The atmosphere on the broad promenade hovered at the optimal balance between deserted and overrun by masses of people. As it was a weekend night the balance wouldn’t hold for long, but for the moment it pulsed with energy while still allowing plenty of room to move about and claim your own personal space. He noted with interest the outdoor bar to the right, complete with live synth band and raised danced platform. Not yet. Business first.

He slipped among the milling patrons until he reached a section of railing at the edge of the promenade to the southeast of the bar. Here the crowd had thinned to a few meandering couples and the music thrummed softly in the background.

The light from the skyscrapers now drowned out the light from the meteors, but he couldn’t argue with the view.

A thoroughly modern city to the core, humans having initially set foot on its soil less than a century ago, Cavare glittered and shone like a sculpture newly unveiled. The reflected halo of the moon shimmered in the tranquil water as the river rippled along the wall beneath him, winding itself through the heart of the city on its way to Lake Fuori. Far to his left he could see the gleam of the first arch which marked the dramatic entrance to the lake and the luxuries it held.

It was an inspiring yet comforting view, and one he had spent close to forty years watching develop, mature and grow increasingly more lustrous. He contented himself with enjoying it while he waited for his appointment to arrive.

The message had come in the middle of dinner at his favorite Chinasian restaurant. He hadn’t even had the chance to go home yet; the entirety of the belongings he had traveled with were stowed in the rear compartment of his bike. But in truth there wasn’t much of consequence waiting for him at the apartment, for it was home in only the most technical sense of the word.

Never have anything you can’t walk away from. A gem of advice imparted by a friend and mentor early on in his career, and something he had found remarkably easy to adopt.

He stowed the bike in a nearby stall he had rented in yet another assumed name and hurried to Bay F-18. He made a brief pass through the ship to make sure the contact points on the charges were solid, then sat in the pilot’s chair, kicked his feet up on the dash and crossed his hands behind his head to wait.

They were hackers as much as terrorists. It wouldn’t take them long to break the encryption to the bay. The encryption on the ship’s airlock was stronger—for they would expect it to be—but not so difficult they couldn’t crack it.

Planting enough charges at the headquarters to take it out would have involved significant risk of discovery and ultimate failure. But here, he controlled every step and every action.

The hangar bay door burst open. Three…six…eight initially. He sincerely hoped more showed up before they got into the ship.

His wish was granted when three minutes later seven additional members of the group rushed in. The surface pursuit, he imagined. The initial arrivals were still hacking the ship lock. He gave them another two minutes.

With a last gaze around he pulled his feet off the dash and stood. He headed through the primary compartment and below to the mid-level, opened the hatch to the engineering well, and positioned himself in the shadowy corner near the stairs.

They wouldn’t all come in at once, lest they end up shooting each other in the confusion. Three, maybe four to start, plus two to guard the airlock. They would fan out to run him to ground quickly.

The first man descended the stairs. As his left foot hit the deck Caleb grabbed him from behind and with a fierce wrench snapped his neck. He made a point to throw the body against the stairwell so the loud clang echoed throughout the ship.

Two down.

Caleb looked over his shoulder to see Michael Volosk striding down the steps toward him. Right on time. Everything about the man’s outward demeanor projected an image of consummate professionalism, from the simple but perfectly tailored suit to the close-cropped hair to the purposeful stride.

He extended his hand in greeting as the Director of Special Operations for the Senecan Federation Division of Intelligence approached. A mouthful worthy of the highest conceit of government; but to everyone who worked there, it was simply “Division.”

Volosk grasped his hand in a firm shake and took up a position along the rail beside him. “Thanks for agreeing to meet me here. I have a syncrosse rec league game down the street in twenty minutes, and if I miss another game they’ll kick me off the team.” He wore a slight grimace intended to hint at the many responsibilities a high-level covert intelligence official was required to juggle…then presumably realized the impression it actually conveyed, because he shifted to a shrug. “It’s the only opportunity I have to blow off steam.”

Caleb smiled with studied, casual charm. “It’s not a problem. I just got in anyway. And if the surroundings happen to discourage prying eyes, well, I appreciate the value of discretion.”

Volosk didn’t bother to deny the additional reason for the choice of meeting location. “It wouldn’t hurt if your coworkers didn’t know you were back on the clock yet—and that’s one reason I chose you. Your reputation is impressive.”

He chuckled lightly and ran a hand through disheveled hair made wild by the wind. “Perhaps I’m not discrete enough, then.”

“Rest assured, it’s on a need-to-know basis. I realize we haven’t had many opportunities to work together yet, but Samuel always spoke of you in the highest terms.”

He schooled his expression to mask the emotions the statement provoked. “I’m humbled, sir. He was a good man.”

“He was.” Volosk’s shoulders straightened with his posture—a signal he was moving right on to business, as though it didn’t matter how good a man Samuel had been. “What do you know about the Metis Nebula?”

Caleb’s brow creased in surprise. Whatever he had been expecting, this wasn’t it. Okay. Sure.

“Well, mostly that we don’t know much about it. It’s outside Federation space, but we’ve tried to investigate it a few times—purely scientific research of course. We know there’s a pulsar at the center of it, but scans return a fuzzy mess across the spectrum. Probes sent in find nothing but ionized gases and space dust. Scientists have written it off as unworthy of further study. Why?”

“You’re very well informed, Agent Marano. Do a lot of scientific reading in your spare time?”

“Something like that.”

“I’m sure. The information I’m sending you is Level IV Classified. Fewer than a dozen people inside and out of the government are aware of it.”

He scanned the data file. In the background the synth band shifted to a slow, rhythmic number threaded by a deep, throbbing bass line. “That’s…odd.”

“Quite. The Astrophysics Institute sent in a state of the art, prototype deep space probe—the most sensitive one ever built, we believe. Honestly, it was solely for testing purposes. The researchers thought Metis’ flat profile offered a favorable arena to run the probe through its paces. Instead it picked up what you see there.

“Obviously we need to get a handle on what this is. It came to my desk because it may represent a hostile threat. We’ve put a hold on any scientific expeditions until we find out the nature of the anomaly. If it is hostile, the sooner we know the better we can prepare. If on the other hand it’s an opportunity—perhaps a new type of exploitable energy resource—we want to bring it under our purview before the Alliance or any of the independent corporate interests learn of it.”

Caleb frowned at his companion. “I understand. But to be frank, my missions are usually a bit more…physical in nature? More direct at least, and typically involving a tangible target.”

“I’m aware of that. But your experience makes you one of the few people in Division both qualified to investigate this matter and carrying a security clearance high enough to allow you to do so.”

It wasn’t an inaccurate statement. And if he were honest with himself, it would probably be best if he went a little while without getting more blood on his hands.

He slid open the hidden compartment in the wall and climbed into the narrow passage, pushed the access closed using his foot and crawled along the sloped tunnel. When he got to the end he activated his personal concealment shield—which did very nearly make him invisible—and with a deft twist released the small hatch.

He rolled as he hit the ground to mask the sound. The lighting in the bay was purposefully dim, and he landed deep in the shadow of the hull.

As expected, there was a ring of men guarding the exterior of the ship. He waited for the closest man to turn his back, then slipped out and moved to the corner of the bay to settle behind the storage crates he had arranged to have delivered earlier in the day.

He was rewarded by the arrival at that moment of an additional six—no, seven—pursuers. A significant majority of the active members were now inside the hangar bay. Good enough.

They moved to join their brethren encircling the ship—and he sent the signal.

The walls roiled and bucked from the force of the explosion. White-hot heat blasted through his shield. The shockwave sent him to his knees even as the floor shuddered beneath him. Pieces of shrapnel speared into the wall above him and to his right. A large section of the hull shot out the open side of the bay and crashed to the street below.

One glance at the utter wreckage of his former ship confirmed they were all dead. He climbed to his feet and crossed to the door, dodging the flaming debris and burnt, dismembered limbs. The emergency responders could be heard approaching seconds after he disappeared down the corridor.

He didn’t de-cloak until he reached the bike. He calmly fired it up, cruised out of the stall, and accelerated toward the exit.

Mission fucking accomplished.

Caleb nodded in acceptance. “I’ll need a new ship. My last one was, um, blown up.”

“My understanding is that’s because you blew it up.” The expression on the Director’s face resembled mildly sardonic amusement.

He bit his lower lip in feigned chagrin, revealing what he judged to be the appropriate touch of humility. “Technically speaking.”

Volosk sent another data file his way. “Regardless, it’s been taken care of. Here’s the file number and all the standard information, including the hangar bay of your new ship.”

He ignored the mild barb and examined this data with greater scrutiny, but it appeared everything had in fact been taken care of. “Got it. This all looks fine.”

“Good…there’s one more thing. It’s no secret with Samuel gone there’s a leadership vacuum in the strategic arm of Special Operations. He believed you were quite capable of taking on a larger role. Based on your record—a few isolated excesses aside—and what I know of you, I’m inclined to agree. So while you’re out there in the void, I’d encourage you to give some thought to what you truly want from this job. We can talk further when you return.”

Caleb made sure his expression displayed only genuine appreciation, carefully hiding any ambivalence or disquiet. “Thank you for the vote of confidence, sir. I’ll do that.”

“Glad to hear it. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go get my ass kicked by ten other men and a cocky, VI-enhanced metal ball, after which I get to go back to the office and review the Trade Summit file for the seventeenth time this week.”

He grimaced in sympathy. It was impossible to escape the growing media frenzy surrounding the conference, even with it over a week away.

Twenty-two years had passed since the end of the Crux War; it had been over and done with before he was old enough to fight. The cessation of hostilities after three years was officially called an ‘armistice,’ but Seneca and fourteen allied worlds had—by the only measure which mattered—won. They had their independence from the mighty Earth Alliance.

Now some politician somewhere had decided it was finally time for them to start playing nice with one another. He wished them luck, but…. “If it’s all the same, I’d just as soon not be assigned to that one, sir. It’s going to be a clusterfain of epic proportions.”

Volosk exhaled with a weariness Caleb suspected was more real than contrived. “Don’t worry, you’re off the hook—wouldn’t want to endanger your work by putting your face in front of so many dignitaries. I, however, won’t get a decent night’s sleep until the damn thing’s finished.”

Caleb sighed in commiseration, playing along with the superficial bonding moment. It seemed the higher-ups had decided he was worthy of being nurtured, at least enough to make certain he stayed in the fold. Bureaucrats. They had no clue how to manage people; if they did, they would realize he was the last person who needed managing.

“Well, I’m sorry I can’t help you there, sir. But I will head out on this mission once I’ve pulled together what I need. It should be a few days at most.”

Volosk nodded, transitioning smoothly to the closing portion of the meeting. “Please report in as soon as you discover anything relevant. We need to understand what we’re dealing with, and quickly.”

He responded with a practiced smile, one designed to convey reassurance and comfort. “Not to worry, I’ll take care of it. It’s what I do.” He decided it was best to leave when I’m not blowing up three million credit ships and two dozen terrorists with them unsaid.

After all, he fully intended to try to return this ship in one piece.

After Volosk had departed, Caleb remained by the river for a while. His outward demeanor was relaxed, save for the rapid tap of fingertips on the railing.

He had been on leave ever since the post-op debriefs for the previous assignment had wrapped up. Whether the vacation had been a reward or a punishment he wasn’t entirely sure, despite Volosk’s vague hint at a promotion. Nor did he particularly care. He had accomplished what he had set out to do, justice had been served—albeit with a spicy dash of vengeance—and the bad guys were all dead. But it appeared it was time to get back to work.

The serenity of the cool night breeze and river-cleansed air juxtaposed upon the pulsing thrum of the music and swelling buzz of the crowd made for an appropriate backdrop. Time to retune himself.

He had enjoyed spending time with Isabela and her family, especially getting to play the bad uncle and fill Marlee’s head with rebellious and unruly ideas sure to drive her mother crazy for months. The little girl had spunk; it was his duty to encourage it.

It had been a welcome respite. But it wasn’t his life.

He pushed off the railing and strolled down the promenade to the bar area. The throbbing of the bass vibrated pleasantly on his skin as he neared. He ordered a local ale and found a small standing table which had been abandoned in favor of the dance floor. He rested his elbows on it, sipped his beer and surveyed the crowd.

It was amusing, and occasionally heartbreaking, to see how people doggedly fumbled their way through encounters. All the cybernetics in the world couldn’t replace real, human connection, which was likely why physical sex was still the most popular pastime in the galaxy, despite the easy availability of objectively better-than-real passione illusoire. Humans were social animals, and craved—

“What are you drinking?”

He glanced at the woman who had sidled up next to him. Long, razor-straight white-blond hair framed a face sculpted to perfection beyond what genetic engineering alone could achieve. A white iridescent slip minimally covered deep golden skin. Silver glyphs wound along both arms and up the sides of her neck to disappear beneath the hairline.

He smiled coolly. “I’m fine, thanks.”

She dropped a hand on the table and posed herself against it. “Yes, you are. Would you like to dance?”

He suppressed a laugh at the heavy-handed come-on. “Thank you, but…” a corner of his mouth curled up “…you’re not really my type.”

Her eyes shone with polished confidence. She believed she was in control. How cute.

“I can be any type you want me to be.” The glyphs glowed briefly as her hair morphed to black, her makeup softened and her skin tone paled.

So that’s what the glyphs were for. A waste of credits born of a desperate need to be wanted. He gave the woman a shrug and shook his head. “No thanks.”

She scowled in frustration; it marred the perfect features into ugliness. “Why not? What the hell is your type?”

He took a last sip of his beer and dropped the empty bottle on the table. “Real.”

He walked away without looking back.

STARSHINE: AURORA RISING BOOK ONE

Available in ebook, paperback and audiobook

AUTHOR'S NOTE

Thank you so much for reading RESTLESS.

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A complete list of my books, including all three books in the AURORA RISING trilogy, and where to find them can be found at www.gsjennsen.com/books.

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

G. S. JENNSEN lives in Colorado with her husband and their two furry, four-legged children, Dagny and Kaylee. She has been a corporate attorney, software developer, editor, and is now a full-time author.

Her first novel Starshine: Aurora Rising Book One, was published in March 2014 by Hypernova Publishing. The conclusion to the trilogy, Transcendence: Aurora Rising Book Three, was published in March 2015.

CONTENTS

Title Page

Copyright

Blurb

Map of Colonized Worlds

Dramatis Personae

RESTLESS

Earth

Seneca

Erisen

Romane

Erisen

______________________

Starshine: Aurora Rising Book One

-- Prologue

-- 1: Earth

-- 2: Seneca

Author’s Note

About the Author