The Kassa Gambit

the planet several times to dock. That would earn her a ticket for unsafe navigation. Enough of those and they would take your ship away, for your own good.

Velocity was the porridge of commercial space travel. Too much or too little, and you got eaten by bears.

Her console sprang to life, in touch with the constant field of radio traffic that bathed every civilized star. No warning signals, no red lights here. Just a dozen offers for cargo transshipment, and one limited-time-only special on deck wax.

She touched the switch that made her part of that invisible web. If her orbital calculations were right, she had about three minutes to make a decision.

“Hail, Bruneis spaceport. This is the Ulysses hailing.”

“Prudence? Is that you?”

A quick response for such a small port. They must be hovering over their consoles.

“Yes, Bruneis … Sharon?” She struggled to match the voice to a name. Garcia was so much better at that. “Listen, I have a problem…”

“Hang on, Prudence, the commodore wants to speak to you.”

She hadn’t asked for her favor yet, and the operator was already transferring her up the line. This was either good news, or very bad news.

“Captain Falling?” A more mature voice. Prudence had never had to deal with the head of Bruneis’s space program before.

“Commodore, I would like to request permission for a flyby, to the Carnor node.” It was a lot to ask. She wanted to streak through their system without stopping. That meant no inspection, which meant no cargo fees. Not very polite. “I’m running without cargo or passengers, and there’s an emergency behind me. I have two minutes and eight seconds before I have to abort this course.”

Despite the urgency, the voice hesitated before responding. Prudence gritted her teeth at the dramatics of power.

“On one condition, Captain Falling. You tell us what the hell is going on.”

“Granted, Commodore.” She relaxed in her chair. The course she wanted was already programmed, and the autopilot would make the minor corrections necessary. There were always corrections. Planets followed Newton’s laws inflexibly, but there were so many factors that no simulation could be perfect. The subtle influence of other planets, moons, and even the waves of plasma on the face of the local star all added up. But she had been through here only a few weeks ago, so her navcom’s data was up to date.

The commodore kept talking. “All we know, Captain Falling, is that the Launceston blew through here on a fusion burn. They didn’t bother to ask for permission, either. And they didn’t tell us jackson.” Prudence grimaced in sympathy, but not too much. If the commodore thought she was aggravated at the imperiousness of Altair Fleet, Prudence could tell her a tale or two.

Which focused the issue neatly. How much could she tell them without compromising her invisibility? And how much could she keep from them without endangering them?

Bruneis was a dome world, rich in rare-earth elements but barely habitable. Its population could not retreat to the forests to hide, because there were no plants of any kind. The Bruneisians wore nose-filters and oxygen feeds when they went outside. Other than being utterly devoid of oxygen, the atmosphere was quite pleasant, with a tang that reminded Prudence of baked cinnamon.

But a week without machinery or power would exterminate Bruneis.

“Kassa was attacked, Commodore. Bombed for days by an unknown force. I’ve been flying rescue missions since I got there. The Launceston is allegedly going to Altair to request more help.” And, as she had expected, keeping mum as long as possible. “There’s an Altair cruiser there now, the Phoenix. I don’t know if they came through here, though.” She hadn’t seen the Phoenix arrive, and there were three nodes at Kassa.

“How bad is it?” The commodore was too distraught to even notice Prudence’s subtle question about the Phoenix, let alone answer it.

“It’s bad, Commodore. Perhaps twenty percent casualties.” Ten thousand individual deaths, reduced to a statistic. “But there’s nothing left standing—or moving—on the planet. They hit the infrastructure hard.”

The commodore knew better than Prudence what that would mean for her own world.

“Who? Who did it?”

Prudence bit her lip. “I don’t know.” In a way it was true. “Nobody saw anything but bombs.” Unless Prudence was demoting herself to the status of nobody, that wasn’t true at all. “All I can give you are rumors and speculation, Commodore.” Lies piled on top of lies. If deceit had mass, her ship would be dangerously overloaded.

“Then give them, Captain.”

If she told them what she had seen, if she gave them details that could only have come from the wreck, then Altair Fleet would find out. And if there were a conspiracy here, then they would come after her. Kyle’s last-minute rescue would be wasted.

Prudence said as much as she dared. “If something comes through the node, and it doesn’t speak Terran standard … start shooting.”

Silence on the other end. Prudence kept talking. “That’s just what I heard, Commodore. Nothing was taken; no one claimed sovereignty. They showed up, dropped bombs, and went away. For apparently no purpose that anybody can understand.”

Another pause. Then the commodore responded. “I’ve asked my staff some questions about you. They assure me you do not play practical jokes. Nonetheless, I am going to ask you, under oath, to repeat that.”

Prudence exhaled in relief. The commodore had given her a way out, an excuse to shut up.

“Not under oath, Commodore. If you want me to go on record, then all I can tell you are the facts. Kassa is in shambles, and no one knows who or why.”

The commodore surprised her by swearing. “Bullshit. Someone knows why.”

“Then they didn’t choose to share it with me, Commodore. May I respectfully suggest you take whatever measures you can to protect yourself.”

“How many were there? What kind of ships did they attack with? How can we organize a defense without knowing any of this?” The voice was angry, almost petulant. Prudence couldn’t blame her, but it wasn’t her fault.

“All I can tell you is they didn’t land. They just dropped bombs—a lot of bombs. For several days. Kassa had virtually no defenses—only one patrol boat, and I honestly don’t know if it was even armed.”

“You can’t tell me what I need to know—but you can spread rumors of aliens.” Bitterness overwhelmed the commodore’s voice.

“I’m sorry, Commodore. But you can go and see for yourself. I’m sure Kassa would appreciate any assistance you can spare.”

The appeal to humanity took the wind out of the commodore’s sails. When the voice answered, it was apologetic. “Understood, Captain. We’ll dispatch a rescue mission immediately. Can you tell us what they need most?”

“Yes,” Prudence said with relief, “I can. Prepare for a datadump.” She pushed the button that logged her in to Bruneis’s public network, and queued the transfer. Everything else would be automatic. The machines would talk now, without deceit or emotion, sparing Prudence and the commodore their artless fencing.

If only someone would invent a machine that lied for you.

“Pru?” Garcia on the intercom. “Did we exit the node yet?” The transition was undetectable by any sense human beings possessed. Short of looking out a window and noticing that the stars were points of white light instead of spectral streaks.

“We did, and as you may have noticed, we’re still alive.”

“For now.”

She sighed. “We’re on flyby to Carnor. From there it’s one more hop to Altair, where we can cash in this voucher.”

“Assuming Altair still exists.” Garcia had been rattled for days. This was an uncomfortable experience for her. She’d seen him bet his life savings without a twitch, a dozen times.