Chapter One

Heber and his little ship had arrived in orbit around the fifth planet in the Concobar system 30 hours previously. It was a barren world of rocks and gravel, with a thin mostly-nitrogen atmosphere, incapable of supporting life. As rocky planets go, it was a big one, with gravity about 1.5 times Earth standard. The Concobar species the system was named after, had sent a few exploratory missions there over the years, but no permanent bases had been established yet. They lived on the third planet in the system, which had a nice life-sustaining atmosphere, liquid water oceans, several continents, and a thriving biosphere with the Concobar at its apex. It was quite a bit smaller than the fifth planet, with gravity about 80% of Earth standard.

Fate had placed the Concobar system in the demarcation zone between two massive adversaries. One hundred and eighteen light-years away, above the orbital plane of the system, was the edge of the territory controlled by the human ConChain civilisation. Eighty-six light years in the opposite direction was the place where the State of Engus had reluctantly agreed to halt their aggressive expansion. An uneasy truce, filled with mutual distrust, had existed between the two behemoth civilisations for over 120 years.

Only a few years before the truce, the Concobar had taken their first tentative steps in space flight. Thus, their technology was primitive indeed compared to the marvels in the tech toolbox of both the Engus and ConChain. Like all neutral civilisations in the 200-light-year wide demarcation zone, the terms of the truce protected them from interference by either side. Or at least that was the starry-eyed intention of the diplomats who had drafted it. The reality, as perpetrated by the well-resourced intelligence agencies of both sides, was a clandestine game of smoke and mirrors that sought to bolster one’s own position, while preventing the other guys from doing the same thing. It was a cold war of sorts.

The Concobar government had the good sense to scrupulously avoid any involvement with either combatant. They could have easily succumbed to the lure of instant access to high-technology, by cosying-up to one side or the other, and indeed, over the years there had been no shortage of subtle offers to do just that. But the old hands running the show on the third planet knew how short-sighted that would be. They could see how precarious the situation was, and their only chance to avoid being steamrolled by one side or the other in this game of galactic chess, was to remain irrelevant. They passed laws that strictly forbade any Concobar citizen to interact or trade with either the humans or the Engus.

To ensure that the firmness of their resolve on this issue would be clear to all concerned, they declared that no representatives of either side were allowed to approach the home planet, without express permission. The government had done such a good job of encouraging their citizens to support this policy, that it was completely taboo to mention any opposing viewpoint in polite society. Of course, that didn’t prevent a small cohort of non-conformists who coveted the benefits of advanced alien technology, from quietly looking for ways to circumvent the isolationist policy.

Heber Adogan had one very rare ability that made him highly valuable to his employers at the ConChain Xeno Research Division. He was a telepath. While that ability alone would have been immensely useful in its own right, the fact that the messages he sent were not limited by the speed of light, made him virtually indispensable. The only other known method of moving information faster than light was to put it physically inside a superluminal-capable starship, pop that ship under the fabric of space-time, and pull it out again at the destination. A method which would have been entirely unsuited for sending real-time status updates from his latest mission to unearth Engus subterfuge.

Since arriving on the planet, he had been using his peculiar talent for instant communication, to keep his employers informed about the suspicious behaviour of the crew from a Concobar ship that had landed on the planet. They were there, it seemed, to conduct a meeting with some Engus agents, who had arrived in another ship. The back-woods location that had been chosen for the meeting, almost certainly meant that it was not sanctioned by the Concobar government, and thus had some profound implications for the balance of power in the region.

Heber was feeling particularly underappreciated by his superiors as he floated a few centimetres above the ground, buoyed up by his suit’s anti-grav pushers behind a dusty grey boulder, watching enemy troops unearth his ship. If he was so valuable to them, why did his XRD paymasters send him off with half-baked mission plans, and inadequate resources? Not for the first time, he bemoaned the laughable name of the intelligence agency he belonged to. Just about every citizen of the ConChain knew that the only ‘research’ the XRD was engaged in, was how to be better at spying. In reality, it existed for the sole purpose of keeping tabs on the Engus and finding ways to jockey for advantage over them.

* * *

On one of the billions of nameless unoccupied planets in the galaxy, the only human-like being within a sphere of space measuring two light-years in diameter, stood slumped against the rim of an enormous rocket engine. With his helmet resting on the edge of the bell, he was motionless except for one booted foot, that was absent-mindedly tracing a small arc, over and back on the gravel surface beneath him.

Heber was staring towards the horizon, but not really seeing anything. He was barely aware of a slight vibration transmitted through his helmet from the cold rocket bell it was up against. So, this was what it all came down to then. Almost his entire life had been spent on spaceships or other artificial structures. How inappropriate that it should come to an end on a planet. Well, maybe they would name it after him. “Heber’s World”. He liked the sound of that.

Various forms of regret had been the soundtrack to his life, and now the band was in full swing. Regret that his species was almost gone, made all the worse by his inability to extend it by having children. Regret that he had lived the life of a vagabond, never calling any place home or forming lasting friendships. Regret at having no memory of his parents. Regret about the poor state of his relationship with his sister. And, of course, regret about failing the mission.

He was painfully aware of the oppression suffered by some of the weaker species in the galaxy, at the hands of expansionist monsters like the Engus. The ConChain philosophy of confronting oppression and supporting the less fortunate was something that resonated strongly with him. Serving as XRD agent on the front-line of this philosophy, had given meaning to a life previously devoid of it. Now he was going to be remembered for failing on an important mission. It was an unbearable thought. So unbearable in fact, that he pushed it away after a moment of wallowing in it.

“Well let’s see if they can remember me for something else”, he shouted, his suit screen momentarily fogging from the breath of the shout.

“Do you wish to open radio transmission?” asked the confused suit. “No, cancel” he replied.

Straightening, he began to examine the interior of the bell he had been leaning on, looking for handholds. So Durv, does sensus reckon this stunt will make it into the history books?

Slightly taken aback by the strident tone, she replied: Well, it can’t find any record of this being attempted before in ConChain space, so this could indeed be your five minutes of fame. I would never have pegged you for a glory hunter though. Danpah says it’s more likely to be eight minutes though. I think he is the only person here that’s jealous of you right now.

Heber wasn’t having much luck finding a handhold inside the bell, to climb up on. The inside of this thing is smoother than that bloke that tried to chat you up on Golent last month, Durv.

Just then, the suit’s speakers began to relay a sudden chorus of mechanical whines that were emanating from the machinery above him. The musical note rapidly escalated into a higher and higher pitch, and at the same time the trickle of vapour coming from the engine vents increased to a deluge. His tummy did an involuntary somersault, with the realisation of what was about to happen.

Oh shit, it sounds like they are firing up the fuel pumps, and I haven’t found anything to climb on…. Never mind. I’m an idiot. Forgot about the suit AG in the heat of the moment.

“Lift three metres and forward till contact”, he instructed the suit.

A moment later, Heber found himself up against the inside wall of the bell, facing it. He issued some further commands to the suit. “Full adherence on grav and molecular. Prep for high pressure and heat hazard at local environment.”

OK, I’m inside the bell and latched on. Wish me luck and keep up the good work if I don’t make it.

By now, the rising pitch of the fuel pumps in the bowels of the rocket above him had reached ear-splitting levels, and would have damaged his hearing, were it not for the suit limiting the volume that reached his ears. His bravado of a few moments ago had all but evaporated, as the fear reasserted itself. But there was no going back now, so he resolved to make the best of it.

The channel from Durvel opened, but for a moment there were no words coming through, only an impression of fleeting emotions. Heber detected some regret but had no time to analyse it before the words started.

Heb listen carefully. Danpah says, when the engines stop you must exit from the rocket into space. It will not be going fast enough to get into orbit, and it’ll soon start falling back into the atmosphere, taking you with it. You will only have a few seconds to attach your suit’s grav pullers to the departing Concobar upper stage, before it gets out of range. When they light the upper-stage engines they’ll tow you to a higher velocity. Your suit should be able to tell you when you are going fast enough to stay in orbit. You can detach then. But don’t forget to analyse their trajectory. It’s essential we figure out where they are taking those weap…

* * *

The extract ends there. Chapter One, and the rest of The Blue Race, carries on from that point.