Part 7: The Big Picture

Among the people who called the Rock home, Byron answered to no one. While Drake considered him an equal, the truth was even she could not marshal the resources and power that Byron had at his disposal. He didn’t throw his weight around, and preferred to act discreetly, but Byron was easily the most powerful human on the Rock.

In life, however, everyone answers to someone, and this was as true with Byron as it was with anyone else. It was almost time for his weekly report. He checked his watch. Not quite time. He remembered that he’d invited Alex and his new crew member Michael to come chat with him. His report would be finished before they arrived.

He kicked back in an old computer chair. For someone so important, his office was rather small and cramped. The walls were solid rock, evidence of the abandoned mining operation that once occupied the space. It was dimly lit. There were no decorations, rather charts, shipping timetables, and logistical reports lay scattered about. Byron may have seemed like a man of ideals, but he understood the importance of his business, and dealt with it seriously.

He glanced at the time on his computer. Not yet. He pulled out the file he had on Alex. That would be important for their meeting. But Alex did not concern him as much as the mystery that was Michael.

Byron saw through the “Newman Cruz” façade the moment he met the man. He figured it was just another person on the run from the past. They tend to drift in an out of the Rock on a regular basis. Another stop on the run from something. The past was something people here tended to ignore. Inquiring about someone else’s might require admitting your own.

But Michael was different. While it was true that he didn’t talk about where he’d come from, he wasn’t exactly keeping a low profile. Byron found him everywhere, his nose stuck in an engine with the mechanics, his eyes pouring over the control panels of nearly every ship in Byron’s fleet. He even peppered Byron with questions on a wide range of subjects. Michael was wide-eyed and idealistic, a far cry from the downtrodden thugs Byron normally encountered here on the fringe.

A flashing light on his desk drew Byron’s attention. He hit a button on his desk to lock the door, then tapped the flashing light. A monitor slid up. A dark figure filled the screen. “I trust all is well?” he said, although even determining if it was a he would have been difficult. The transmission was heavily encrypted, and should it be intercepted and decoded, the identity of the parties involved would remain a mystery.

“Well is all I trust,” Byron replied. One more layer of security didn’t hurt.

“You are beginning to make an impact,” the voice said.

“Four successful raids this week. Our manpower is growing, too. I have 20 ships and crews at my disposal, and 10 trained freedom Flyer boarding parties. I will be putting together my 11^th in the coming days. What’s the news on your end?”

“Your activity is being noticed. It doesn’t appear that the Kilon Expeditionary Force suspects anything more than an increase in piracy, but they have pulled some of their task forces away from peace-keeping and colony protection missions to put them on the trade routes. Be cautious, you don’t have the resources to take on one of their vessels.”

“Not now, but soon. Have we begun the PR campaign?”

“Kilon media censors are diligent, but we have started some low level conversation. Terran businesses have made some noise about the protection of their goods in transit and the damage to the economy piracy poses. Nothing much to rile up the populace. There is some chatter on the DarkNet about there being a larger purpose to the increased attacks, but not enough to gain any traction with the seeds of the larger conspiracy.”

“I have something on that front that might be helpful.”

“Really?” It was difficult to tell do to the encryption protocols, but Byron could almost tell that his shadowy partner was excited.

“My sources have tracked a member of the Sons of Abraham to this station. A high ranking member, someone that has first-hand knowledge of the Venusian attack and the Kilon role in it.” Byron kicked back in his chair and put his feet on the desk. He knew this was big.

“Do you know who he is? Have you questioned him yourself?”

“I haven’t pinned it down exactly.” Byron said, “but I’m getting close.” He looked at the clock on the wall. “I need to run. I will hopefully know more soon, but I have an appointment.”

“Understood. I will transmit the time of our next conference. Out,” the shadowy man said. With that the screen went blank. Byron fiddled with the controls, and the monitor slid back into the desk.  As it disappeared from view, there was a tapping at the door.

Byron hit the switch to open his door and stood up. “Come in, come in,” he said, spreading his arms and glancing around the room. “Sorry for the mess, but you know how it goes, work, work, work.” He gestured at a pair of chairs on the other side of his desk. “Please, have a seat.”

Alex glanced nervously at Michael, who, for his part, was grinning like a maniac, seemingly oblivious. “Figures,” Alex muttered to himself, and sat down in the chair to the right, Michael quickly joining him.

Byron sat down, opened a compartment below his desk, and pulled out a bottle of water. “Would either of you like something to drink?” He glanced below the desk. “I’ve got tea… uh, some sort of energy drinks… maybe I can have some coffees sent in here?”

Alex shook his head. “We’re good…” he started.

“Actually, I’ll have a tea,” Michael said, reaching across the table.

“Alex, are you sure you don’t want one?” Byron asked Alex, examining the bottle before handing it to Michael. “Says here, ‘made from the best stuff one Earth’… yeah, like anything is grown on Earth anymore, am I right, Mike?”

“Michael, please, that’s my name. And what do you mean, ‘like anything is grown on Earth’?”

Alex laughed for a minute, looking at Alex and pointing at Michael. “This guy, I knew I liked you,” he said. Michael continued to stare at Byron, who quickly stopped laughing. He turned to Alex. “Where did you say this guy was from?”

“I didn’t say,” Alex replied, “I make it my business to stay out of my crew member’s business. As long as they do their job and keep me out of trouble, that’s all I care about.” He was worried Michael might violate that second condition. While Alex thought Michael was an odd duck, and should be institutionalized, he had to admit the man was good at whatever he set himself to. And had graciously kept his ship hidden, allowing Alex to at least dream of the profit it might one day bring in, should he ever work his way out of Byron’s employ.

“I can respect the way you run your ship, Alex, I get it,” Byron said. He turned to Michael. “But seriously, you didn’t know that all agriculture was shipped off of Earth?” Michael stared. “The terraforming of Venus? Next, you’re probably going to tell me you don’t know about the Venusian Crisis that got all of us into the mess we’re in now.”

Michael looked at Byron, and shrugged.

Byron stared at Michael, then glanced back to Alex, who returned the look with a what-can-I-say throwing up of his hands. Byron slapped both of his hands on the desk. “Are you kidding me!” he shouted. “Ha! Alex, where did you find this guy?” He looked at Michael. “Ok, so you know who the Kilons are.”

Michael nodded. “I’ve become familiar.”

“Good. So, the Kilons went and got themselves in a pickle, bit off a little more than they could chew. A war with the Redipsilons. See, before that, the Kilons strolled around the galaxy like they owned the place.”

Alex rolled his eyes. Byron shot him a look, then went back to his story. “See, the Kilons didn’t like Humans when we first came on the scene, but realized we shouldn’t be messed with, and worked out some cozy trade alliances with us. But other races, well, the Kilons looked down on them. So when a Kilon colony world asked for help with a small conflict in the Redaelos System, they figured it would be a quick and easy way to assert their dominance.”

“Long story short, the rest of the galaxy had it with the Kilons, and eventually Kilos itself was under siege. They cried to Earth for help. The Martian Confederacy was smart enough to stay out of it. But the Terran Federation loved the idea of playing ‘Big Damn Heroes’, and rode in to save the day.”

“The ‘White Fleet’?” Michael asked.

“Yes!” Byron smiled. “I was getting worried about you. Now, the White Fleet is the greatest armada to ever cross space, but the Terrans didn’t have it ready to go when they joined the Kilon cause. It took months to get up and running, a phenomenal logistical feat, I might add. In the meantime, the Siege of Kilos was killing millions. The Redipsilons and their allies had landed troops on the surface, and even taken control of the southern continent. The government of the Kilon Federation was trapped. In a move of desperation, their Terran ambassadors offered a deal to the Terran Republic that would become known as the Star Base Luna Pact.”

Alex was getting restless. “Did you invite us here for a history lesson?”

“He needs to know what we’re up against, what we’re fighting for.”

“I’m fighting to get the title of my ship out of hock, no more, no less.”

Byron grinned. “You mercenary! I bet deep down you have a soft, tender heart, don’tcha?” Alex leaned back and crossed his arms. “No?” Byron asked. “Alright, but this guy hasn’t had a chance to get bitter yet, right?” Michael shook his head. “Good, now where was I?”

“Star Base Luna Pact.” Michael said. He was sitting on the edge of his seat, elbows resting on the desk.  

“Right, the Star Base Luna Pact. Basically, the Kilons wanted to entrust the Federation to the control of the Terran Republic should its government be overrun by enemy forces. The Federation would, in that event, fall under the military rule of Earth. But the Kilon negotiators, they were smarter than they let on. Even with their backs to the wall, they knew how to screw a guy over.”

“What do you mean?” Michael asked.

“Well, the Kilons are negotiators. There was very little open warfare on Kilos in the past, because once tensions boiled over, it was usually revealed that some previously negotiated agreement had already settled the matter. Kilons deal dirty, they are notorious for loopholes and hidden stipulations. ‘Dirty Birds’ has never been a more apt description.”

“So, in the Star Base Luna Pact, they required the Terran Republic to reciprocate the offer, they were, after all, offering a lot. The Terrans were blinded by greed. Should Kilos fall, then their own empire would swell. The period of the martial law could be indefinite. So they signed.”

“In the end, the White Fleet arrives, and saves the day. The Kilon Federation is restored, and grows with concessions made by their fallen foes. But they know the true threat is man. It was man they needed to survive their darkest hour, and man who was on the ascendance in the galaxy. They couldn’t stand for it.”

  “So they bid their time, and opportunity came soon enough. On Venus, a large, well organized terrorist attack crippled food distribution. The ‘Sons of Abraham’, a religious terrorist group made up of Muslims, Christians, and Jews claimed responsibility, saying the ‘alien Venusian food’ was an abomination before God, or some such thing.”   

“In only a few weeks, food outages on Earth led to massive pandemonium, riots, fighting in the streets. The Kilons promised aid, but it was slow in coming. In the chaos, a military coup killed the President and wiped out most of the legislature, claiming power. The people then turned on the military, and a popular uprising overthrew the military junta as it was trying to establish its authority.”

“That was when the Kilon Expeditionary Force showed up. Because of the loss of the Terran Republic’s rightfully elected government, the Kilons enacted martial law in accordance with the Star Base Luna Pact. What was left of the Terran judiciary ruled the treaty valid. They distributed food, restored order, and captured most of the Venusian terrorists. The Kilon Federation pumped trillions of credits into the economy, and soon John Q Public was happily sedated by the booming markets and inane culture.”

“But the thing is, the Kilon Federation never relinquished control. Their hand isn’t heavy, they don’t work that way. They allow elections and a human government. But at the top, they call the shots. They dismantled the White Fleet, said it was too big a threat to galactic peace.  Kilon Expeditionary ships patrol Terran space. The culture seems open and free, but if you say anything politically against the Kilons, you get silenced. Earth seems free, but it’s not. That’s what we are fighting for, to wake people up.”

“Whoa,” was all Michael could muster. He slumped back in his chair, looking dazed.

Byron looked at Alex. “I know that’s why you’re out here.” He grabbed a folder and tossed it into Alex’s lap. “You’re a Class A Terran, you fought in the Liberation of Kilos. They’d let you work anywhere in Kilos or Terran space.”

“Maybe I’m just a common low life who likes getting paid under the table.”

“No, you run a tight ship, you’re a law and order guy, I’ve seen it. You spilled your blood on Kilos. You fought for their freedom, and now you desire some for yourself. I understand that.”

Alex stood up, his face turning red. “You don’t know me, Byron. Now, if your lecture is over, can you tell us why you wanted to talk?”

“Simple. Michael here wants to be a Freedom Flyer. He wants to join a boarding party on our next raid. He sees the vision.”

Alex looked down at Michael. “Is that true?”

“Yeah, I think I’d be good at it.,” Michael said.

Alex looked at Byron shook his head. “I don’t allow my crew to get into any dangerous situation that I wouldn’t be in with them.”

Byron smiled. “I know, that’s why I want you to lead Michael’s boarding party.”

“Oh, ok,” Alex said, sitting down. He thought for a minute, then leapt back to his feet. “Wait! What?!”