This Alien Shore by C.S. Friedman

Author:C.S. Friedman
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: DAW

The ambassador from the New Terran Front was predictably hostile. They were always hostile. They considered it an affront to be asked to share the same air as a Variant, and their speech and manner and expression all showed it.

“Our station space has been invaded.”

Varsav had started the meeting sitting, but quickly rose and began to pace. They did that to him, these Isolationists, overriding even the calm that his med programs could produce, driving him to a frenetic display of wasted energy. God, how he hated them.

“Invaded, you say.”

“Yes.”

He snorted with what he hoped was suitable disdain. “By what? Tourists? A harvester? Some poor little transport jarred off its course, that came within a million miles of your outer ring?” He’d heard all those complaints before and dealt with them as his duty demanded, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. Or pretend that he liked it.

There was fury in the man’s eyes, but for now he was keeping it under control. “A pod.”

“A pod?” He stopped pacing and faced the man. Did he sound as incredulous as he felt? “And you came to my office to complain to me personally because this pod, this tiny thing, passed within ... what? A million miles of your station ? Two million?”

The answer came between gritted teeth. “Six thousand.”

Six thousand miles. Really. That was actually a legal offense, he mused, and not just some instance of Isolationist paranoia. Unusual.

“A pod, you say.”

The man held out a sheet of plastic. Varsav took it from him, resisting the impulse to make physical contact as he did so. God alone knew what the man would do if he did, probably go home and have all the skin removed from his hand, for fear of some dreaded Variant infection. Maybe they’d even kill him when he went home, just to keep the station pure. Damn it, the moment was tempting . . . but he refrained from making contact. Duty above pleasure. Maybe next time, he promised himself.

Varsav looked over the figures recorded on the sheet, and frowned as he did so. This was not good. Not good at all. Something really had come into the Front’s station space, and that meant he had to do something about it. The law was the law. “How long ago was this?”

The ambassador hesitated. “Nearly two Earth days now.”

Varsav snorted derisively. “And you expect me to do what now? Track the thing?” Oh, he could see them wasting two days, all right, while the intruder made his merry way home. A grand council meeting or two to discuss how to deal with such a threat, followed by a host of committee meetings to decide if it was worth sending one of their own into Variant-controlled space, followed by a long discussion of who ... if there ever was a war between Earth and her Variant offspring, and if this station was any example of Terran competence, Hausman’s children had nothing to fear.

Which was not true, and he knew it.

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