Converge Chapter 4

Bron could see the lineage of the RDF's main battle mecha, the destroids and veritechs, in the design of the Centaur hover-tanks. There were four of them in the motorcade, escorting an armored command vehicle that flew blue and black pennants. Up close, in the streets of Manhattan, Bron could see how they glided over the asphalt with smooth, sure movements, supported by powerful cushions of air. The outsized main cannon and well-armored hulls evoked the angles of a Spartan or Tomahawk destroid's protective battle-plate and heavy armament. The flared thruster nozzles were predecessors to the Valkyries' advanced systems, and propelled the fighting vehicles to ground speeds undreamed of by any twentieth century tank crew.

Upon reaching City Hall Park, the Centaurs revealed their final distinctive feature, slowing and reconfiguring. Bulky modules shifted into new positions, moving the armored fan chambers outward and lifting the central turret. Almost comically small manipulators unfolded from beneath the turret, like the stubby arms of a bipedal dinosaur. The primitive veritech tanks pivoted on their air cushions with the grace of figure-skaters and formed a perimeter in the emptied parking area.

"Even when they send an envoy, York is still trying to intimidate the people here," Mary scoffed, shaking her head. She stood with Bron at a third floor window of the old city hall, watching the motorcade's arrival.

"And it'll work," Bron said, scowling. "The tanks may be old, but they're still dangerous. Just look at what the F-16's did."

"Can they be stopped?"

Mary was collecting information on the increasingly desperate status of food, water, medical care, and other necessities when Bron had checked into the military situation. He shook his head.

"Commander Ztren doesn't think so. I guess the question is, will Manhattan surrender? Everyone has been acting defiant today, but they're afraid, too. I can't be sure what the Zentraedi will do anymore. Nothing's certain since Breetai's fleet mutinied against Dolza."

"Your fault," Mary reminded him with a weak attempt at humor.

Bron's lips thinned. She meant it as a joke, but he felt responsible for the situation the Zentraedi were in.

"They're not likely to give in, unless York has scaled back its demands," Bron finally said, answering his own question. "What it really means is that the fighting will start soon."

"Which also means that the UEG Assembly is going to be forced to a decision point. Intervene, or step aside?"

"Which will they do?" Bron asked. "Will my mission really make a difference?"

Mary frowned. "I'm no politician. I'm hardly qualified to predict what a bunch of-"

"Mary." Bron didn't need to remind her that she was a trained sociologist. Or that she had been instrumental in moving public opinion in favor of the Total Integration plan, and toward creating a hybrid of Terran and Zentraedi society.

"Ok, ok, I can probably guess," Mary admitted exasperatedly, drawing her jacket closer around her. The room was chilled; the heat had been turned off in most of the building until the envoy's arrival had been announced. She watched an armored hatch swing down from the side of the command vehicle, revealing stairs. Down stepped a broad-shouldered figure in a blue uniform covered in gold braid and a broad black sash.

"The majority of the Assembly will try to wait 'til the last minute to make a commitment. They won't want to stick their necks out. If they do intervene, it'll be after the invasion is already under way. They may pass a resolution ahead of time, but it'll be a vague kind of disapproval of 'aggression.' They didn't step in when the Zentraedi were fleeing across York's borders, and they won't take pre-emptive action now.

Bron shut his eyes. "Then my being here is useless."

"No Bron, it's not!"

"You didn't want me to come here in the first place."

"Because it's dangerous. But that doesn't mean it's useless. What the people believe still matters, and the Assembly is answerable to them. Report the truth. Force everyone to look at what's happening. Speak for the Zentraedi. I know you believe in doing that."

"I do."

"Then let's do it right now. The meeting is about to begin."

"You didn't like it yesterday when the Manhattan officials tried to get me to pick a side," Bron pointed out.

Mary rolled her eyes. "That was different. They were trying to get you to pull the Allied Fleet into this. That would trigger an even bigger crisis. Bron, you're one of the most well known advocates for Zentraedi rights in the world. Nobody is going to imagine that you're impartial. You certainly weren't appointed Inspector General because you were expected to be detached and objective."

Bron smiled faintly. "I guess you're right. But I don't think General Carter will be too happy that I'm here,"

Mary's grin was cat-like. "Then that's just too bad for him."

"What a mess!" Reyes complained, pacing back and forth in the soft glow of the tent's lantern. "My pilots are mad as hell. We had worse odds during the war and the Valkyrie squadrons still managed to pull out a win every time."

"It's hardly the same situation, Jose," May, who was leaning gingerly against the cheap plastic table, broke into his rant.

"Ah, come on, Hazard, you don't know what it was like! Ten to one odds were par for the course back then."

"You weren't there. You were still in flight training during the Global Assault."

Reyes stopped and put his hands on his hips. "Are you saying me and my squadron aren't as good as any of the old-timers?"

Vanessa sat quietly in her folding camp chair and stared down at her cooling mug of instant coffee, only half listening. She would let them vent for a while. She had quite a lot on her mind, and the other officers needed a distraction from all the worry and uncertainty. Straza, sitting next to her, was equally thoughtful.

"I'm not saying that at all," May said, shaking her head. "But having backup from the SDF-1 and a couple hundred Defender destroids is a lot different than flying alongside a single destroyer. And the Zentraedi wanted to capture the SDF-1, not destroy it."

Reyes suddenly grinned. "So what you're saying is that Hunter, the Sterlings, and the rest actually had it a lot easier than they make it out to be."

May's brow furrowed. "Wait, what?"

Reyes folded his arms triumphantly. "Just wait 'til the next time those jokers in Skull Squadron start telling war stories. I'm gonna let them know that you told me just how soft they had it!"

"Now just one minute! That wasn't what I meant!"

"No, no, you were there, and I wasn't, so I'll take you at your word. The Gold Sabers are clearly the best in the UN Spacy!"

May growled, and Reyes's eyes twinkled. Vanessa had been worried about how the two would interact. Reyes had proven himself to be a genuinely good person, and he had tried to be gentle in his rejection of May, but Vanessa knew it had hurt the young woman. Fortunately, their banter was still natural and friendly. But it was time to face their real problems.

"Reyes, May, report!" she finally ordered. There was a ring of command in her voice neither of them heard very often, and they both stood to attention.

"They cleaned our clocks, Tang," Reyes said sheepishly. "We did well enough knocking out the incoming waves of battle pods one by one during the first phase of the exercise, but after that, they had the numbers and the position. We were overwhelmed, simple as that. I can try to have my pilots work on disengagement tactics, but I'm not sure it would have made a difference today."

"Do so, but that's not really what I wanted to know. What's your assessment of the Zentraedi flight crews? You held a joint debriefing with them, right?"

"Yeah." Reyes looked uncomfortable. "It was kind of weird. Straza would know better than me," he said, glancing at the officer, "but they didn't act like I would expect. I figured either they would be excited about blasting us to dust, or they'd be angry about how many losses they took doing it. But they didn't seem that interested. They rushed the debriefing, and wanted to talk about the next exercise. Asked if I could get authorization for a combat scenario in Earth's atmosphere. They also asked for gun camera footage from some of the battles with the SDF-1 on Earth. Launch Day, the Pacific, and the Battle of Ontario."

Straza arched a purple eyebrow. "Rather specific requests."

"What about you, May, what did you see in the launch bay?" Vanessa prompted.

"Well, I don't have much experience with flight deck operations, but all that equipment we saw in the launch bay yesterday wasn't just for display. Today, the bay was heavily staffed, and loaded with mecha and ordnance. Maybe too loaded. There was a bit of a scare midway through the exercise. They were spinning up the engines on a Gnerl when one of its thrusters overheated. There was a fire, and the bay started filling with smoke. They deployed fire suppression drones, and the pilot kept his cool and managed to shut the engine down, even though he received some bad burns, but…" May met Vanessa's own gaze with wide eyes. "You know what? They just kept going! I mean, an accident like that during a training exercise back home? They'd stop everything and figure out what went wrong, right Jose?"

Jose blanched, while Vanessa and Straza shared similar expressions of concern. "Seriously? All of that ordnance piled up waiting to be loaded and armed? The launch bay doubled up with fighters and battle pods?" He shook his head in disbelief. "A fire like that is no joke. An explosion would probably have killed everyone in the bay and taken a good chunk of the ship with it!"

The normally brash pilot turned to Straza. "What is going on here? I know the Zentraedi do things differently, but this seems pretty extreme. Is this normal?"

"Not… exactly," Straza said, as all eyes turned to her. "The Zentraedi fleet prioritizes speed and efficiency over safety during combat operations, it's true, except this is training, not combat."

"But the crew are behaving as if they're in combat, or about to be. Right?" Vanessa asked, trying to steady herself. The ship had nearly experienced a disaster, one that could have killed everyone aboard, and if the report had even made it to the bridge during the exercise, she was unaware of it.

"Yes. Everyone has been pulled out of cryostasis, and every available mecha has been made ready. The crew are eager. The last time I saw them like this was when we captured the Factory Satellite."

"They expect to go to Earth and fight York," Vanessa stated flatly. "Does anyone think I'm wrong?"

No one disagreed.

"But what does Captain Gotta think is going to happen? That Admiral Breetai is going to order his ship to defend Manhattan?" May asked.

"Or he might just go out on his own and bombard York directly." Reyes suggested.

Straza shrugged. "I've heard those theories and many more from the crew, since we've arrived."

"The situation on Earth is changing rapidly. We don't know if Admiral Breetai might change his mind and decide to intervene after all," Vanessa said, frowning at all of the ambiguity they were dealing with.

"Then ask him," Straza replied with a shrug. "Or Minister Exedore, if Lord Breetai is unavailable."

"What? He's- he's not going to talk to me." Vanessa's cheeks colored at the thought. The Zentraedi leader and his most trusted advisor were legends. "A low ranked officer with no command?"

Reyes smirked. "Please. You think neither of them would talk to the Survivor?"

Vanessa shook her head. "That might impress recruits, but I can hardly expect to trade on that with senior officers."

"You may be surprised, Commander," Straza said. "Besides, I think you'd better try," she added gravely. "Time might be running short on Earth, but it is also running short for us. What Captain Gotta said to you was no exaggeration. I've been checking with my old crewmates and inspecting the ship. The Sal-Dezir is falling apart. The Sal-Dezir is dying."

General Carter, commander of York's Air Defense Fleet, the man who ordered the destruction of the refugee freighter Hamilton, and the junta's chosen envoy, was cordial and patronizing. He looked far more comfortable in the city hall meeting room than Bron felt. The room was an ornate monument to New York City's former glories, from the shiny hardwood floors and table to the red velvet upholstered seats, studded with polished brass fittings. Baroque chandeliers hung from a ceiling decorated with elaborate plaster molding. Uniformed officers and well-dressed magnates from centuries past stared down from immense gilt frames. It was the most alien space Bron had ever found himself in. Trying to shrug off his discomfort, Bron returned his attention to General Carter, who let out a pleased sigh as he seated himself in one of the plush chairs.

Behind the smug smile and pleasant, recruiting poster good looks, Bron saw fury in the eyes of the fit, silver-haired man. It reminded him of recordings he had watched of Khyron's transmissions to his troops- a charming and refined persona that could be worn while carrying out supreme acts of betrayal and butchery. In truth, the general was disgusted and outraged just to share the same room with Bron and the other Zentraedi.

"It's really not necessary to draw this out any longer," Carter said lightly. "We know you don't have much in the way of food reserves, and you don't have the strength to prevent York's security forces from entering the city. You have forty-eight hours to agree to our reasonable requirements, or my nation will act to protect itself."

There were angry mutterings around the room, and Bron shook his head. Even naive as he was, he could understand the meaning behind Carter's oily words. President Abrham was having none of it.

"Forgive me, General, but I must ask you to speak more plainly. For the record." He cast a significant glance at Bron and Mary. "The world is watching, after all."

Carter followed Abhram's gaze, and his jovial mask slipped. "Ah, Bron Nantes, the UEG's trained show pony," he sneered. "Letting the whole world know how 'safe' and 'cultured' the Zentraedi are. As American as apple pie, are we?" Bron flushed at the man's words, wishing that his brothers were here. Konda's unflappable calm would have steadied him. Rico would have laughed and made an innocent joke that would set the room laughing and made Carter look foolish.

"I've never heard that plain-spokenness was considered a virtue for a diplomat or a politician," Carter went on, "but as I am a soldier, I'll do as you ask, Mister President. We're coming," he stated bluntly. "Manhattan is a nest of alien invaders that no right thinking human can tolerate. York will not allow you to harbor these dangerous creatures. If you do not comply with our demands, we will enforce compliance by any means necessary. The humans that suffer as a result will be your responsibility."

There were gasps of indignant anger around the room, from Terrans and Zentraed alike.

President Abhram's knuckles were white, but his voice was calm. "It would seem we have very different definitions of human life."

Carter leaned over the table. "Indeed. Know that I will burn the very ground these monsters tread upon to cleanse this land."

"How dare you!" Commander Ztren's micronized XO sputtered. "York's soldiers are nothing but a pack of thieves and murderers!"

Carter didn't turn his head. "I do not speak to Zeds."

"Maybe not. But you'll listen to me."

All eyes turned to where Bron stood. He felt none of his usual nervousness at all of the attention. He felt a crushing heaviness, and he could hardly hear over the sound of the blood rushing in his ears, but when he spoke, his voice was firm.

"The United Earth Government is closely watching this situation. We are fully committed to peace between Terrans and Zentraedi. York's actions are in violation of the 2012 Charter of Human Rights."

"Human rights," Carter said in a voice laced with razor blades.

Bron shook his head. "That same charter states what was proved by blood tests three years ago. That my people are as human as you are."

"The Central Commonwealth of York is a sovereign state that does not recognize the authority of the UEG or the 2012-"

Bron spoke right over him. "The UEG has not recognized the sovereignty of the paramilitary forces that occupy the area from the former state of Kentucky to the eastern border of Pennsylvania. Many members of those forces are wanted for desertion, mutiny, and banditry."

The last scraps of Carter's composure fell away. "You arrogant, filthy-"

"Let's talk plainly, as you said, General," Bron continued. "As soldiers. The UEG hasn't decided how to deal with your violent, lawless threats. They're waiting for my report to decide. I should also remind you that you have placed yourselves outside of the UEG's protection. No one will come to your rescue if you find out your invasion plans were a huge mistake."

Carter's face purpled. "Are you threatening me, alien?"

Bron's voice was grim as he replied. "I don't need to. I'm not here as a negotiator or a mediator. I'm just here to observe. But I thought it would be best to make the UEG's position clear."

Carter stood, visibly calming himself. He turned his attention back to President Abhram. "We're done here. I've delivered our terms. You have forty-eight hours to disarm your security forces and assemble all non-humans in residence for inspection and deportation. You will then allow our troops to enter and occupy the city. If Manhattan does not comply, we will begin immediate combat operations to enforce these terms. And Inspector Nantes," he said, as he turned back to Bron, his voice dripping with contempt, "I would advise you not to linger too long over your 'observations.' Take the first available flight out of the city. You don't want to be here when I return."

"That was a disaster," Bron said, his head bowed as he pushed his fingers through his hair. From his seat in the nearly empty reception room, he could hear the engine of Carter's command vehicle start with a snarl, then the Centaurs spun their turbo-fans and escorted the general back across the river. Mary sat down next to him and put a hand on his shoulder.

"It wasn't a disaster," she told him. "You were right to stand up to that duchronaigh. You should have seen everyone's faces."

"It won't matter. It isn't going to change what York does."

"Don't be so sure. Carter's not about to let on if he's troubled by what you said, but it was very clever to remind him that if the Allied Fleet attacks York's troops, the UEG is under no obligation to stop them."

Bron's head shot up. "But the UEG doesn't want Lord Breetai's troops to get involved!"

"Carter doesn't know that!" Mary shrugged. "York's leaders would happily let another faction take the heat for doing what they wanted. Why wouldn't they think the UEG would do the same?"

"It was reckless. What if Breetai or one of his captains really does attack? Manhattan might be saved, but Zentraedi could be attacked in other parts of the world because people feel threatened. Or the UEG might be blamed for it. Didn't you threaten to cancel our mission just for someone suggesting I bring the Allied Fleet into this?"

Mary sighed. "I had to do that. It's like I told you before the meeting, there's a difference between implying a danger and flat-out stating you plan to escalate a conflict. Trust me, Carter got the message, but without you saying anything he could use against you."

"But is that enough of a threat to change their minds about attacking?"

"I don't know. You had to try something to shake up York's plans. What they actually do is out of our hands. What you need to do now is focus on your report to Speaker Torres."

"You're right." Bron nodded. "We'll work on that next. I still need to watch what your team recorded today, and I think there might be a couple of more places I should visit in the morning."

"Sure. And, Inspector?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I assume you're not interested in having me make arrangements for us to fly out of Manhattan tomorrow?"

Bron's gaze hardened. "Definitely." I'm sorry, Vee. I just can't leave yet.

The panorama of the Earth's sphere filled Vanessa's vision. Vanessa was in the rear seat of a Valkyrie. She wore her black and red flight suit, but she had no helmet obstructing her view. Her world was bathed in warm light, the sun reflecting gold from the Atlantic Ocean through soft, foamy white clouds. It felt strange that such a fantastic spectacle should pass in near silence. No roar of thrusters reached her; the veritech was making a dead-stick re-entry into the atmosphere. Even her instruments' harsh alert tones seemed muted.

"May? May?" Vanessa called out, but heard no answer. She craned her neck and leaned left, then right, seeing only blue skies and bruised land through the canopy. Finally, she looked up, and gasped. The Zentraedi fleet was descending - the Kardis, and other destroyers, numerous wedge shaped heavy cruisers, and the distinctive cowled hull and white belly of the Sal-Dezir. They were dropping fast, already they were beginning to overtake Vanessa's own tiny craft, a gnat among whales.

This isn't real! a part of Vanessa's mind insisted, but the rest of her watched with alarm the over-steep angle of the flotilla's re-entry, the green hulls glowing with incredible heat, turning a bizarre shade of blue.

"Stop! Stop!" Vanessa called out, struggling with her console. The readouts and tags seemed garbled somehow. She couldn't figure out how to reach the coms frequency of the Zentraedi warships.

"There's no stopping," a voice said from her center monitor. Miriya Sterling's face appeared on the screen, looking back at her. She was in the pilot's seat of the Valkyrie, her green hair drifting in free-fall like a diver's. Her expression was resolute. "My people are going to Earth."

"They can't! The fleet can't survive this! Your people are going to die!" Vanessa protested.

Miriya shook her head. "We will endure."

"But the risk, for everyone!" The noses of the lighter ships were beginning to turn to slag. The space all around Vanessa was becoming cluttered with molten fragments broken off from the warships; tiny, bright meteors that streaked past her canopy.

"This cannot continue, Vanessa. There is more than one kind of death."

The distance was growing, the fleet leaving her behind, silhouetted shapes haloed by coronas of blinding light. Vanessa felt a terrible resolve grow within her.

"Then take me with you. Take me down there, to Bron."

Miriya reached over and pulled a distinctive lever at the left side of her control panel, and Vanessa felt the veritech shift as its legs unfolded beneath it. The fighter's thrusters roared, and Vanessa could feel their descent slow.

"Miriya, don't! I need to follow them! I need to go to Bron!"

"I'm sorry, Vanessa." A protective armor panel slid forward, covering the canopy, blocking Vanessa's view. "Your path is not his." The cockpit went dark, as all of the instruments and monitors flickered and died, one by one. Vanessa could see nothing. She could do nothing,

There was no jolt when Vanessa awoke from the nightmare. No cry of panic. She was too weighted down by dread and helplessness for that. She propped herself up on her cot and wiped the tears from her eye, then drew in a slow, shuddering breath. How strangely her nightmares had changed after a year, from fear of the Zentraedi, from fear of her own death at their hands, to fear for them.

Bron felt further away than ever. He's in the place I encouraged him to be. She had worried about their future, their separation, the danger she would face on the Pioneer Mission, without fully realizing how dangerous, how disunited the Earth continued to be. And we're planning to return to the stars? she thought bitterly, not for the first time since the crisis began. She checked the chronometer. She needed to get ready. She would be leaving for her meeting with Admiral Breetai in thirty minutes. The time for words would soon be over. She had no idea what would happen next.

Next time… last sunrise, betrayal, and the great Breetai…