Breach
fiction by michael werneburg
2002.07.26
"It's the job, David."
"We can't harm innocents!" Hiram insisted.
"Innocents?" she asked. "Do you know something about the passengers that we don't know, Ensign? Those aboard that flight just left the scene of an active firefight over control over a major source of narcotics. They are at the very least participants in the distribution of narcotics. That jet we're going to intercept might be carrying a great deal of narcotics."
"Everyone has the presumption of innocence!"
"But you're thinking in terms of civilian law. This is an official intervention outside of Terran jurisdiction, where Corporate protocol holds sway. It's outcomes that matters, here. This species we're dealing with is a low-contact race of inferior technological advancement, locked in a global drug war. The plane crash won't raise any eyebrows at all."
"That's rather not the Ensign's point," Eisberg told Xin. But to the Ensign, he added, "Young man, we're going to be lucky if Corporate doesn't pave this planet with nukes or slam it with meteorites."
"That's terrible."
"Yes, it's always heartbreaking. Such a waste of an inhabitable world."
"They're a dime a dozen," Xin said with a shrug.
After some reflection, Hiram concluded, "Protocol says we should apprehend the Prince so that he can face charges for his actions, and to contain whatever indiscretion he has started. If he resists in a violent fashion, we respond in kind. The fate of the rest of the planet is out of our hands."
Marl regarded the young man for a moment, watching his position shift on the fate of the aliens. She wondered what caused his love of protocol; was it perhaps a way to find comfort in order, or perhaps to exert control? She turned back to her console and noted that the small peninsula where they were to meet the Admiral's airship was just ahead and closing fast. "We're almost there," she announced.
Xin stood, watching their rendezvous point with her binoculars. "I think I see the ship. Matte grey on grey rock, but I think I've got it. An XP-38 if I'm not mistaken. Stealth tech, micro-missiles and beam weapons, and a full set of boarding equipment; these primitive screw-heads won't know what's hit them."
"Again with the speciesism," Eisberg noted. "But if we get new sleds, I hope they have a proper set of modern tools this time. My personal tricorder is generations newer than anything aboard Virga."
"Agreed about the tech," Xin said. "This sled doesn't even have deflector shielding. It's a miracle they've let us do interventions on something this antique."
"Speaking of Virga, shall I have Mother send this sled back to her, or to pick up Mr. Smooth and the rest?"
Eisberg frowned. "I'll miss that old clunker. Better send the sled to collect it all. The Admiral will doubtless have newer equipment on-site shortly."
"And speaking of tech," Marl asked. "What shall we do if the missing subtime field generator from the Prince's sled isn't with him?"
Xin nodded. "I was thinking about that. I've put my weapon back on stun, because we might need to extract the information from him. I'll ask you all to do the same as well."
"We never took them off stun!" Eisberg said.
"But seriously," Xin added, "This is another reason to intercept mid-air. We'll need to search the entire alien craft if that generator isn't sitting his lap. Thankfully that XP-38 is exactly the kind of interceptor we need for a job like this. I believe it will be equipped with modern scanning automatons. You'll want to see those in action, David."
"I have never done a mid-air interception," Marl said. She hadn't had Xin's military training and the thought of these mid-air acrobats made her nervous.
"Nor have I!" Eisberg agreed. "You, Ensign?"
"No!"
"I've already queued some immersive instruction media," Xin assured them.
All three groaned. That meant they'd have to have the training run on neural jacks, probably while on the jet they were about to board. Immersive media taught quickly but left quite a hangover.
The sled rose under Marl's expert guidance to a slow approach to the peninsula where the jet awaited. As Xin had noted, it was a matte grey color atmospheric jet. It had two main wings and two much smaller fore wings in a canard configuration and twin ion engines. It had no windows and a slender tail. Its fuselage was narrow. It hovered motionless about a meter above the level rock surface.
"Looks like it's going to be a tight fit," Hiram noted.
"You're a tall guy," Xin said. "You'll probably experience that a lot in your career. The XP-38's at 90% subtime, I'm going to match and join the fields. I'll give you the signal when you can board. Does everyone have everything?"
They all brandished their weapons. They had very little else. Returning to near-normal time, they were greeted with the return of wind, of almost normal light, and much calmer patterns of energy playing around the edge of the field.
Xin looked at the jet, and they saw a circular crack form in the hull. This led to a section of the hull emerging and then splitting open to form a portal about 150cm across. Xin, managing this from the sled's second console, said, "That's go! Board the jet!"