Epsilon Eridani (Aeon 14: Enfield Genesis) Read online

  The aforementioned mining platform was attached to an asteroid in Little River’s Inner Asteroid Belt. NaWai was its name, and it had been claimed by their sister planet, Godel, decades before.

  None on Barat had known at the time the riches the frozen rock had secreted in its depths. Had they known, they surely would have contested Godel’s claim. It was far too late now. That meant Barat would have to resort to other, more devious methods.

  This didn’t worry Giovanni. The Humans’ Republic of Barat was a proven master in the art of being devious.

  “These operatives of yours.” The premier slanted a glance his way. “Have they managed to sow discord among the employees living on Verdant, as promised?”

  Giovanni smiled in smug satisfaction as he gave a brief nod. The discord she’d inquired about had been no mean feat to pull off, considering the platform housed close to five thousand miners, their families, and ancillary support staff.

  “Our agents have gained access to the environmental systems,” he assured her. “We instructed them to engineer small failures at first, and to leak information suggesting mismanagement and lax safety protocols.”

  His smile was one of carefully contrived confidence. “The first stirrings of unrest have already begun. Our final act of sabotage will look like a structural failure. We’ve planted evidence that points to company neglect, purposely hidden from its people. Panic should spread quickly. With a little encouragement, it’ll escalate to rioting once the platform is compromised.”

  “Very good,” Premier Feretti’s normally expressionless face thawed into a brief smile. She turned expectantly to the head of the Republican Guard. “And you have a Guard ship ready to render aid?”

  Willa Savin nodded. “We do. We have a cruiser with a company of Marines conveniently testing out an engine refit in that sector. They will be ready to provide relief and humanitarian assistance—and of course take over, should the company’s treatment of its employees be deemed insufficient.”

  “Excellent. How soon, then, before we can claim Verdant as a protectorate of Barat?” The avarice in Natasha Coletti’s eyes told Giovanni that the Director of Commerce had big plans for Verdant’s profits. He’d be willing to bet a significant cut ended up lining her own coffers.

  “We need to give it a few days,” he cautioned, eyes flicking briefly to the premier to gauge her reaction to his words. “We want to be very sure there is no possible way they can prevent the riot before we commit to any action. That way, Godel cannot protest our very legitimate offer of humanitarian relief. Nor our actions, when we discover the ‘deplorable conditions’ there.”

  Giovanni knew he was hedging, not committing to an actual start time, but it was the only way to be certain of success.

  “Well, it can’t come soon enough.” Coletti frowned, arms crossed and with a look of clear disapproval on her face. “Those fools on Godel will no doubt levy sanctions against us for this, just like they did over the shipping lanes. But if our intel is correct—” she shot Giovanni an unreadable look, which somehow managed to question his competence, “and the vein of crystal that Verdant found inside Na Wei truly is pure, unrefined silica, then it’s worth the risk.”

  “And that’s where the second stage of our operation comes into play,” Giovanni rebutted in a mild tone, refusing to show weakness in front of Feretti. “Should they decide to come to the defense of Verdant, they will quickly find themselves too busy managing crises at home to burden themselves with a mining concern half an AU away. I daresay you won’t need to concern yourself over repercussions on that front.”

  Premier Feretti tilted her head to one side, one tastefully shod leg crossed over the other, foot gently rocking back and forth in thought. “Expand on that,” she ordered Giovanni.

  He nodded and rose, striding to the controls embedded in the room’s encrypted and segmented console. As his fingers danced over the unit, a holotank sprang to life, displaying the blue-and-green orb that was Godel.

  “We’ve managed to smuggle several Digital-to-Biological Converters to our agents on Godel,” he informed them as the globe rotated and three glowing icons appeared. “We’ve identified these critical locations as major planetary food distribution warehouses. Our assets are working on infiltrating the targets now; the DBCs will be operational by the time we’re ready to activate our saboteurs on Verdant.”

  As he spoke, Giovanni slipped a hand inside his pocket, fingers encountering the smooth, centimeter-thick disc hidden there. Such a small thing to wield such destructive power, he marveled.

  The DBC converters were biological printers. Each one was able to reproduce high fidelity, complex synthetic DNA from files sent to them via encrypted transmission. Each unit could print, on demand, any biological material, from vaccines to weaponized pathogens. Depending on the need at the time, it could preserve life—or take it.

  “All we need to do,” he said, “is send the DBCs the design for the disease that we’ll introduce to Godel’s food supply.”

  Giovanni triggered the holoanimation of the projected outcome. “The mycelia spores we’ve chosen have been engineered to spread at a rate of sixty percent per day, and at under twenty microns, the spores are such fine particulates that they easily remain in suspension, in the air.”

  The holoimage morphed from diseased plant life to a blackened cloud, drifting over a field of crops. “The resulting spore cloud will drift along on air currents, dispersing rapidly. It has the added benefit of being highly flammable, so we’ve equipped the DBC units with the ability to generate a spark, once enough of the biological agent has been printed and distributed. The resulting explosion will depend on the conditions within the warehouses and food production facilities.”

  He spared the table a glance. “We believe that a single outbreak will serve to capture the attention of the people; three such outbreaks within a few days’ time will cause a public outcry and a demand that Godel’s government take action.”

  Natasha lifted her head, eyes narrowing in thought. “Yes, this should keep their hands full,” the woman murmured. “And if Godel decides to divide their resources?”

  Willa’s expression turned speculative. “Godel’s leadership might be soft and undisciplined compared to our own, but they’re not stupid. Any attempt by those in power to spend time and energy on a police action on a faraway platform will certainly be frowned upon.”

  “Indeed,” Giovanni hastened to agree, with a quick glance at his premier.

  “Mmm, yes.” The premier’s voice took on a mocking tone, her expression cold. “It would be highly irresponsible of those in power to expend resources on a relatively small, privately-held mining company when they have such serious domestic issues at hand. Should they be foolish enough to consider such a move, I’m certain a suggestion can be made to the opposition party.”

  She smiled, a predator toying with her prey. Giovanni saw the cold calculation in her eyes, and something deep within warned him that he would do well to avoid placing himself within her sights.

  SPYCRAFT

  STELLAR DATE: 03.05.3272 (Adjusted Gregorian)

  LOCATION: State House, New Kells

  REGION: Godel, Little River (Epsilon Eridani system)

  At the same time, almost a full AU rimward of Barat….

  Simone could just make out the soft patter of raindrops from where she waited at the far end of the room. They were striking the panes of real glass before which Edouard Zola stood, looking out. The sound would provide a welcome backdrop to the presidential briefing, if the rain held.

  It made the intelligence officer uneasy to see her president in such a vulnerable spot, standing before the large expanse with the Director of Intelligence beside him, admiring the view.

  They seemed so open, so…exposed.

  She knew the glass was reinforced by an ES field and threaded with countless carbon nanotube strands—just a few of the security measures emplaced to prevent unknown enemies from waging an attack against the
leadership of the planet the AI called home.

  It was a bit of cognitive dissonance the intelligence analyst admitted privately to herself, for Simone knew that the president and Director Mastai were standing in one of the most zealously guarded locations on the planet.

  Wherever President Zola was in residence became a bastion of security. She knew this. And yet, the disturbing sensation that they were in danger refused to be banished from her mind as she took in the vista on the other side of the glass.

  Carefully-tended gardens, gently rolling hills whose valleys stubbornly clung to pillowed brumes. Overlaying it all was a blanket of indigo-hued clouds, the rain spilling forth, lending the landscape a watercolor smoothness.

  It was a day tailor-made for the cozy fire that crackled a welcoming greeting along an adjacent wall.

  At times like this, Simone almost wished for a real, organic frame so that she might better experience what Zola liked to call the ‘creature comforts’.

  Loath to interrupt the precious few moments her superiors had free between meetings, Simone had politely refused the invitation to join them at the window. She heard their voices quietly discussing the single-page daily brief the presidential cabinet had prepared for their review, as she settled comfortably into a resting stance.

  Her position was strategically situated just inside the room’s entrance, at the edge of the plush rug that covered the reinforced faux-tile flooring. Any attackers would have to get through her before harm came to her superiors.

  Unless they came from above or below.

  She forced herself to dismiss such possibilities, focusing on what she could control, which was the doorway. She spent a few minutes reviewing the section of today’s brief that warranted her inclusion in the president’s meeting instead.

  She’d been invited to such briefings before, but could count on one hand—the five-fingered variety—the number of times it had happened.

  Simone’s job at the Directorate was to study and analyze Barat’s economic and political climate. A report by a junior analyst had recently caught her attention. The analyst’s brother worked on Verdant’s mining platform—a privately held entity situated in the inner asteroid belt—and was growing uneasy about the talk he’d been hearing lately.

  Given the crystal the company was mining, the Directorate had felt that someone should bring this to the attention of the State House. It was this intel that had brought Simone here today.

  A noise behind her alerted her to the presence of another; that same person’s entrance also garnered the attention of the two at the window.

  “Nico,” Edouard greeted the man who had just entered.

  As Nico stepped in behind her, Simone saw the presidential security detail send a sweeping glance through the room before keying it shut behind the man.

  Nico was the Assistant Director of Intelligence and Simone’s immediate superior. He gave Simone a brief, assessing nod as he responded to his commander-in-chief.

  “Sir,” he greeted, “I’m sorry to keep you waiting, but the Directorate received a report out of Barat just as I was leaving. Given what Simone’s here to brief you on,” he nodded toward the AI, “we felt it was best to confirm the information before I came over.”

  Celia Mastai’s gaze momentarily unfocused, indicating she was scanning the electronic missive her assistant director had forwarded. Her eyes snapped to Nico’s and then over to Simone before sending the two a curt nod.

  “Good call, Nico. It fits with Simone’s report,” she commended, turning to the president. “Sir, we—”

  Zola held up his hand, causing Celia to pause.

  “Elie,” Zola called out, addressing the pickups that would ping his assistant the moment the man uttered her name, “would you mind sending in a servitor with fresh coffee for us, please?”

  “Happy to, sir.”

  At Elie’s response, he gestured to the collection of comfortable chairs and sofas arranged into a small conversational group by the fire. “If Nico’s going to be the bearer of bad news, as I suspect from your expressions he is,” he said with a genuine smile as they each chose a seat, “then the least I can do is fortify you first with a decent cup of java.”

  Once the servitor had arrived, Zola waved for Nico to begin as the president began pouring coffee for the two humans.

  Nico, in turn, shot Simone a look, nudging his head toward the president. “Let’s start with what you learned from one of your analysts.”

  Zola shifted in his seat, and Simone found herself under her president’s intense regard. As he handed Nico his cup of coffee, she said simply, “It’s Verdant Mining, sir.”

  Edouard Zola raised a brow at Simone as he sat back in his seat, looking from her to Nico. “The company that just discovered the vein of HPQ on NaWei?” he queried, mentioning the crystal-rich asteroid.

  Nico nodded, pausing to take a sip. He swallowed, then added, “One and the same.”

  Zola shook his head as he reached across and handed Celia her cup. The woman took it silently, her expression contemplative.

  Silicon dioxide—more commonly known as silica—was one of the more plentiful compounds in the universe. High purity quartz silica, on the other hand, was not.

  Most silicas were structurally bound to elements such as lithium, titanium or aluminum. While it wasn’t impossible for thirty-third century nanotechnology to unbind such contaminants, the process was time-consuming and expensive.

  Which made the discovery of high-grade silicon dioxide by a Godel-based mining company a newsworthy event.

  “One of our junior analysts has family on Verdant,” Simone explained. “He contacted her this morning. Said he wanted to send his kids back to Godel; it didn’t feel safe there any longer.”

  Edouard Zola raised an eyebrow. “Did he say why?”

  Simone nodded. “He mentioned there has been talk that the company is cutting corners on the platform’s safety, although he told our analyst that the rumors circulating about imminent environmental failure are completely untrue.”

  “Our analyst told us her brother works on those systems,” Nico added, “and that, while they aren’t state-of-the-art by any means, the company isn’t cutting corners, like the stories the dissenters are spreading.”

  Celia grimaced and shook her head. “Verdant’s never going to make the Top One Hundred list of best places to work, but they’re far from the worst,” she observed.

  “Agreed.”

  “You think Barat’s behind this unrest,” Edouard guessed, and Simone nodded.

  “Given what they’re mining out there, it’s possible, yes,” she qualified.

  Godel itself was a planet gifted with a rich supply of the crystalline substance; Barat, however, was not. Their sister planet purchased much of their HPQ silica from Godel. This had been a sore point for the Humans’ Republic ever since the crystal’s discovery by Godel, shortly after the planet had been handed over to the colonists by the FGT.

  “Okay, we’ve hurt them recently by placing trade sanctions on any HPQ they buy from us,” Zola mused, one trouser-clad leg crossed over the other, elbow resting on the upholstered arm of his chair. One finger tapped his chin, the other was cupped around his half-forgotten coffee as his eyes slitted in thought.

  “True,” Celia admitted, “but that was only after they had stepped up their harassment in the shipping lanes.”

  Edouard looked up sharply. “And in response to the deplorable conditions we found on Barat’s Hadera Station last month, when we rescued those poor workers,” the president reminded her.

  She nodded her agreement as Nico straightened. “That brings us to the reason why I was late to this meeting,” he said, leaning forward, resting his elbows on the arms of his chair, hands clasped loosely. “We just got word that Barat’s premier has ordered their silica distillation plants to ramp up. They’re to triple their output by year’s end.”

  “That report you just received says that Barat is dangerously low on pure silica cr
ystal,” Celia noted, setting her cup down onto the table next to her. “Given the impact our tariffs have had on the price of the HPQ silica they buy from us, finding an alternative source of pure silicon dioxide could prove to be an irresistible lure.”

  Edouard Zola sat perfectly still, eyes narrowed in contemplation as he rubbed his thumb along his jawline.

  “So,” he said after a moment, drawing out the word on a slow exhale, his eyes landing first on Celia, then Nico, and finally Simone. “You’re suggesting the rumors are some sort of first step toward gaining access to that vein of HPQ?”

  Simone glanced at Nico and then back. “It’s just speculation, mind you, but given the rise in complaints about the condition on the platform, they could try to throw the Hadera incident in our faces.”

  “Make us out to be hypocrites, given the conditions reported on Verdant?”

  Simone nodded at Zola’s response. “Take it over, under the guise of a benevolent humanitarian intervention. They might even go so far as to sabotage the platform themselves, creating an emergency at a time when they’re conveniently nearby to stage a rescue.”

  Edouard glanced sharply at them. “You think Barat’s orchestrating a takeover, don’t you?”

  His comment was more statement than speculation; they all knew it, for they all believed the same.

  Nico nodded. “Not enough evidence yet to prove it, but my gut’s screaming at me, sir.”

  His gaze shifted from Nico to Simone for a few weighted moments as the man contemplated the situation.

  “You know,” the president said slowly, “you might want to find a reason to visit Phaethon soon.”

  Simone knew her expression must reflect her startlement at the non sequitur the man had just made. Phaethon was a converted transfer station built by the FGT to ship cargo between the two planets as they were being terraformed.

  A standard spoke-and-wheel configuration, the station followed an elliptical path whose orbit crossed that of both Barat and Godel in a carefully-calculated dance.