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  The captain’s image vanished, leaving blank displays and a rising roar of excited conversation.

  “What the hell was that about?” Lochan asked Carmen, knowing she had no more idea of the answer than he did.

  “Something terrible,” Carmen said, her words sounding as if they had been forced through her throat.

  The displays flickered once, then steadied into the images of two men and a woman who all had the look of people confronting the unthinkable. One of the men was in midsentence as the sound kicked in, the words carrying easily. Everyone on the Mononoke seemed to have fallen silent, listening in disbelief.

  “—exact number of dead remains uncertain, but the ship from Lares says most of the city the colony had been constructing was destroyed along with almost all of their manufacturing and construction equipment. The orbital bombardment was begun without any warning or demands having been issued, so the reasons for the deadly surprise attack remain unknown.”

  “The House of the People’s Representatives is meeting in emergency session,” the woman picked up the report, her voice grave. “The Office of the First Minister of Kosatka has just issued an official statement.”

  The reader’s image was replaced by that of another woman speaking in the slow and clear style of someone conveying bad news. “Our first priority is the safety of the people of Kosatka. Measures to be taken to ensure the defense of our people against a similar attack are already being debated and decided upon. Everyone should remain calm. We will work together to protect this star system and offer what aid we can to the survivors at Lares. Contrary to irresponsible rumors being broadcast on social media, there is absolutely no reason to believe that what happened at Lares was the initial assault by an undiscovered alien species. The images sent to us on the ship from Lares clearly show that a spacecraft of human origin was responsible for the bombardment.”

  The speaker’s image blinked out, replaced by that of the news reader again. “As just confirmed by the official statement, images of the warship that attacked Lares have been sent to the government. Those images will be closely analyzed in an attempt to identify those behind the attack. Our sources caution that because the warships in frontier regions of space are all obsolete craft discarded by Old Earth and the Old Colonies, it may not be possible to discover exactly where the attacker came from without extensive research into possible origins.”

  “To recap for those who have just joined us, a warship jumped into Lares Star System a month ago and proceeded in-system without identifying itself. Once in orbit, it began launching bombardment projectiles that caused extensive damage. The governing body of Lares had fortunately evacuated many people from the city as a precaution, but loss of life is still expected to ultimately be very large. The survivors at Lares have requested any assistance that we can provide.”

  Lochan shook his head, feeling sick inside. Orbital bombardment was something you read about in history books, something that had happened to places in Earth’s solar system. It wasn’t supposed to happen now. It wasn’t supposed to happen in places where new ideas and new cities were being established. “There’s the fear,” he whispered to Carmen.

  “Orbital bombardment,” she whispered back to him, her voice shaking. “How can we stop enemies willing to do that?”

  “We’ll have to figure out a way,” Lochan said.

  Chapter 8

  It took nearly two more weeks before the Mononoke reached the place where transfer shuttles waited to take off the people and cargo intended for Kosatka. The still-new orbital facility felt amazing to Carmen. Used to the ancient legacies of Earth, and the centuries-old, patchwork-repaired structures of Mars, she stared around like a tourist, amazed to see a place that literally had no age to it.

  But the newest part of the facility was a security checkpoint that everyone faced as they left the shuttle. Security guards in new uniforms and carrying a mixed bag of weaponry stood awkwardly around the checkpoint as recent arrivals were checked through. This wasn’t some old routine using long-established processes to screen people. It was, Carmen saw, history in the making. Someday, this would be marked as the start of something.

  She let Lochan Nakamura go through first. He had no problems, of course. Franklin was on no one’s list of stars that bred troublemakers, and Lochan himself had a sturdy, reliable aspect when he worked at it. And work it he did, clearing security without a pause.

  But as Carmen walked through the screening arch, one of the security guards held up a hand, his expression puzzled. “What’s that?” he asked a younger comrade.

  The other guard squinted at the display. “Something on her right lower arm. Uh, tap that. Yeah. It says to use the hand scanner.”

  “Okay,” the older guard said. “Right arm, please,” he instructed Carmen, sweeping a palm-sized disc above the arm that Carmen extended.

  She was far enough through the checkpoint by now to see the display from the side, and with a sinking sensation saw a glowing pattern emerge on the image of her lower right arm.

  “Okay, now what’s that?” the older demanded of his younger colleague.

  “Let’s try . . . yeah . . . menu . . . options . . .”

  Lochan Nakamura stood just beyond the checkpoint, waiting.

  Carmen, trying to maintain a calm, assured appearance, wondered what a real threat would be doing while the security guards tried to figure out how their equipment worked. In most places on Mars, the guards focusing on their display would likely already be dead.

  “It was a tattoo,” the younger guard announced. “See? It got removed. But the gear picked up traces and . . . she’s a Red!” he cried, his tone shifting from unconcerned to almost panicky.

  Carmen kept herself from reacting as the younger guard hauled out his weapon and pointed it at her.

  “A Red?” the older guard asked. Carmen saw other guards focusing on her, coming closer, several more bringing their varied assortment of weapons up.

  “From Mars! That tat she had removed is a Red gang mark! She must be trying to sneak in to . . . to . . .”

  “It’s all right,” Carmen began in her most reassuring of voices.

  “Excuse me.” Lochan Nakamura sounded both authoritative and soothing. “Is there a problem with Citizen Ochoa?”

  The rising tension paused as the guards glanced at Lochan. “You know her?” the older guard asked.

  “We’re working together,” Lochan Nakamura said. “Look at her papers. Look where she came from,” he said.

  Carmen watched as the guards kept their weapons and one eye aimed at her and devoted the rest of the attention to the first guard scanning the automated documents that were still called “papers.” “She’s from Earth,” the older guard said. “Old Earth.”

  “But—” the younger guard began.

  “Look at her last job,” Lochan urged.

  “Earth gov.” The older guard sounded both surprised and impressed. “Directorate of . . . Conflict Resolution!”

  Carmen, used to attitudes on Earth and Mars, was surprised to see anyone being favorably moved by discovering that someone else worked for Earth gov. But Lochan had obviously realized that out here it would mean something positive. Old Colony attitudes that had carried over to the new colonies even while fading in the Old Colonies. “That’s right,” she said, trying to sound completely sure of herself.

  “She’s a Red,” the younger guard insisted, as if that was the most devastating accusation that could be leveled against someone. And, Carmen knew, in many places it was.

  “She has experience working in a lot of different environments,” Lochan replied. He stepped a little closer to the guards, lowering his voice slightly. “Officially, Old Earth can’t do much. But, if someone with the right experience just happens to show up in the right place unofficially . . .” He let that trail off as if something of great import was being left unsaid.
/>   “Unofficially? Oh!” the older guard said. “Unofficially. And she’s . . . So you’re . . . And you’re here to . . .”

  “Right,” Carmen said. Whatever she had agreed to, it was better than being seen as a threat. But she should ensure that expectations went the way she wanted. “We’re here to help in any way we can.”

  “We can’t just let her pass,” the younger guard said though he looked a lot less certain. The other guards had relaxed, lowering their weapons.

  “No,” the older guard agreed. “She needs to get to the right people. Maybe even the First Minister? Call the supervisor. These two will need an escort down. If you’ll wait over here?” he asked Carmen, acting respectful rather than fearful.

  “No problem,” Carmen said, smiling reassuringly.

  “I hope you understand why we needed to, uh . . .”

  “Absolutely,” Carmen said. “You’re all just doing your jobs. And being very thorough and professional about it. I appreciate your concerns and am glad we were able to clear things up.” One-on-one, she could work well with people, and mixing praise with empathy never hurt. The older guard smiled happily at her words and gestured to the younger guard to finally put away his weapon.

  Carmen and Lochan Nakamura were ushered into a side room that was comfortably fitted out and plainly not a holding cell. As they waited, Carmen glanced at Lochan and looked around meaningfully, hoping he would take the hint that this room was probably bugged.

  He nodded in reply. “I hope it was okay my jumping in there,” Lochan said, obviously choosing his words carefully.

  “I could have handled it,” Carmen said, hoping that was true, “but it certainly helped to have two of us vouching for each other.”

  “Everybody is a little on edge,” Lochan observed.

  “Did you notice that the new security checkpoint we went through had to have been installed at least a few months ago?” Carmen asked.

  He stared at her. “It wasn’t in response to the orbital bombardment of Lares?”

  “No.” Carmen let that hang, not wanting to divulge something that might be overheard and cause the security people to question her status or her supposed mission. Security checkpoints wouldn’t stop orbital bombardments. But they would stop people. The sort of people her contacts on Mars had warned were being sought out for unspecified “work” at Kosatka.

  The supervisor who eventually showed up proved to be the head of security for the facility, accompanied by the chief operating officer. Carmen, unaccustomed to being treated as a VIP, did her best to play along with their perceptions that she had been sent by Old Earth to help Kosatka. The fact that she wasn’t sure of the exact nature of the problems made it a bit harder.

  “We honestly don’t understand what their grievances are,” the chief operating officer told Carmen, who nodded in feigned understanding.

  “We just need to crack down harder,” the security head insisted.

  “The government wants to take the right steps,” the operating officer said to Carmen and Lochan, “but can’t figure out what steps would be right. But things are getting worse. We need to do something soon and can use whatever advice you can provide. Your arriving when you have is a real stroke of luck. Or good planning by Old Earth!”

  “I’ll have to take a look at the latest information before making any recommendations,” Carmen said, keeping her responses vague.

  She and Lochan Nakamura were eventually escorted to the next shuttle heading down, accompanied by a station executive to help them after they landed.

  Once the rest of the passengers and cargo were loaded, the shuttle dropped away from the facility and headed down into atmosphere, sunrise appearing before them with startling suddenness as the craft tore eastward and fell toward the surface of Kosatka.

  The flight status information on Carmen’s entertainment display indicated the shuttle was at twenty thousand meters above the surface, slicing through thickening atmosphere, when the shuttle suddenly lurched as if it had been kicked by a giant. Carmen felt the shock moving through the shuttle and heard the dull boom and knew that a bomb had gone off somewhere inside the shuttle.

  The craft slid sideways at an alarming rate, but Carmen took what comfort she could in the fact that it hadn’t already started coming apart.

  Shouts of alarm and panic were erupting from the passengers as the shuttle wobbled and tilted while the pilots fought for control.

  Lochan Nakamura stared at Carmen. “What is it?”

  “It felt like a bomb,” Carmen said, raising her voice enough to be heard over the tumult in the passenger deck. “But the fact that the pilots are still able to try to control the shuttle means there’s hope.”

  “We might make it down?”

  Carmen felt the thrashing of the shuttle diminishing as the pilots slowly recovered stability. “Yes!”

  Lochan turned and yelled. “We’re going to be okay! Everyone take it easy! The pilots are regaining control of the shuttle!”

  As the panic began to subside, Carmen checked her entertainment display. It was still operating, which was another good sign. The shuttle had dropped five thousand meters fast, but the rate of descent was slowing.

  The voice of one of the flight crew filled the passenger deck, silencing the remnants of alarm. “We have suffered an in-flight emergency and regained sufficient control to reach our landing site. Everyone please remain calm and strapped into your seats. We will provide updates as necessary.”

  Lochan was watching his own entertainment display. “Aren’t we still dropping too fast?” he muttered to Carmen.

  She took a look at the data. “I’m no expert,” she whispered back, “but it does feel that way.”

  “How hard can we hit and not come apart?”

  “I suspect,” Carmen said, “that the pilots are asking themselves that same question.”

  The orbital facility executive turned to Carmen. “Are . . . are we going to be okay?” he asked, sweat beading his brow.

  “The most critical moments are the ones right after the blast,” Carmen said. “If the pilots hadn’t regained control then, we’d be in trouble. But they’ve got the shuttle under control. We’ve got a good chance.”

  “You have experience with this kind of thing?” the executive asked.

  “A little,” Carmen said. Growing up on Mars meant hearing about and experiencing the occasional bombing. She had been startled by the initial panic, then realized that the people around her had never been near a bombing before. To them, this was something unprecedented, something that they had no idea how to cope with. “We’re still alive,” she said in a louder voice, which carried through the passenger deck. “That means there’s a very good chance that we’ll be all right.”

  The shuttle was bobbing about erratically as it dropped, the pilots still striving to keep the craft on a steady path. Carmen felt the pressure of higher G forces and knew the pilots were trying to convert some of the downward momentum into forward motion, swinging the shuttle onto a long glide toward the landing field.

  Ironically, now that there was a chance, and the others were calming, Carmen had to fight down her own panic, striving to control her breathing. Dim memories of her mother and father, who had died in an aerospace craft bombing on Mars when Carmen was young, threatened to overwhelm her. Had she fought her way off Mars and come all this way only to encounter the same fate?

  Swallowing hard, Carmen tapped her entertainment display to bring up an external view. The planetary surface appeared, growing closer at a rate that did nothing to calm her.

  The shuttle’s nose tipped upward, its propulsion roaring to life to try to slow the descent.

  The passengers were mostly silent now, watching and waiting with silent dread, except for some muttering or sobbing prayers.

  Something broke with a lurch and a bang, and the propulsion cut off, th
e shuttle yawing down and to the right.

  Carmen realized that she was straining to the left and up, trying to change the path of the shuttle with her own body. Everyone she could see was doing the same despite the utter futility of the move.

  Another lurch, and the shuttle’s right side swung up, the nose rising again but threatening to pitch over.

  Lochan grasped her hand with his. “See you on the landing field.”

  “Same here,” she said, impressed despite her fear that he had managed to think of another at a time like this.

  On her display, the ground was racing past so fast it was hard to tell how high they still were. It still looked like open country, so at least they weren’t coming down inside the city.

  “Everyone brace for landing!” the announcement came in rapid, breathless tones. “Everyone—”

  Still going too fast forward and dropping too quickly, the shuttle hit hard and bounced back into the air, yawing and pitching. Another hit, another bounce. Someone screamed. The entertainment display showed brief images of dirt and rock flying from the impact, then broke into shards of pixels.

  The third time the shuttle hit it stayed down, sliding across the surface with a rattling shriek of protest. Shuttles were designed to land vertically though they could slide to a landing in a pinch. Nothing like this, though, this prolonged jolting ride against what now felt like concrete.

  The shuttle began twisting sideways as it slid, raising the risk that it might flip and roll, but as the trailing side began rising, the shuttle finally began to slow.

  The rising side slammed back to the surface, the shuttle spun about completely as it slid through a dizzying arc, then it finally stopped with a last lurch.

  The passengers sat silently, no one moving, almost as if no one dared to breathe, until the emergency exit panels blew out on both sides.

  Carmen, knowing what would come next, was already up and facing back toward the other passengers when they began to burst into sudden, frenzied motion to escape. “Calmly!” she shouted.