The Notes and Memoirs of Reynolds, E.D.A.

Reynolds, Anvarus

Three: Anvarus

In my description of the biosphere incident in 1997, the Anvarians had been mentioned. The inhabitants of Anvarus are a race that constantly find themselves at the center of such incidents. The biosphere was unique because of the sheer scale of the construct. The Anvarians are a neutral race that are commonly hired as bio-engineers by other races. Their work is exceptional, and commands an appropriately high price. Like many other planetary security forces, the E.D.A. has faced many threat of Anvarian origin. The aggressors themselves were not Anvarian, but the “tools” clearly were. The political fallout of such an attack can be quite devastating. After the biosphere incident, the Spligons had much to answer for politically. Their trade stagnated due to tariffs levied on their exports. Meanwhile, Kxhitic merchant ships sold off world goods to the Spligons at incredibly low prices (rumored to be at a loss). The Spligon job market crashed, with unemployment hitting 20%. Their economy tanked, and the planet was in desperate need of an influx of capital. This was supplied by many alien entities, most notably by the Trifgian Banking conglomerates who loaned the planetary government immense sums at high rates to help placate a jobless populace. It would take generations for the debt to be repaid. In such a fashion was the world Spligos ruined more surely and utterly than their own machinations would have devastated Earth.

Amongst all this backlash, the question arises: why the Spligons? Why did the Anvarians not fall to the same greedy galactic clutches? The Spligons were openly hostile to many races and made for convenient scapegoats. The attack gave many people the excuse they needed to economically attack the Spligons. The Anvarians, however, made sure to remain neutral, as always. They very carefully stay truly ignorant of the intentions of their clients. Further, any attack against them would likely result in a biological attack of a devastating nature. Simply put, their mastery of bio-engineering keeps them safe.

In the fall of 2002, my team had returned to action following a three month sabbatical. Since the five years of its inception, the team had grown. New members had come and gone, but the original members had always remained at its core. When we returned to duty, the size of our tactical unit had grown from five to ten. Four of the additional members were rookies on their first assignment. The fifth was an established veteran. The veteran, Samson Karstein, is the key person of interest in this tale. Karstein had come to my team a veteran of five other squadrons, spanning about thirty years of experience. He was well into the twilight of his career, and had joined my team for one last tour before retiring. His previous team had been rotated onto sabbatical, and he did not wish to rest with them. It is not unusual for an agent to leave a team when it goes on sabbatical, but Karstein himself had never been on leave. Most unusual was the fact that he had never risen above being a squaddie, though he was an extremely able and well-regarded one. He confided in me that about twenty years ago he had applied for promotion; it had been denied. He never again sought promotion, and found contentment in being a trusted front-lines fighter.

The squad had launched from our new base in the Rocky Mountains to investigate suspicious activity in the arctic circle. Our C-5 was trailing two advanced fighter/attack planes. The hostile craft had opened fire on our escorts, so the F/As engaged and shot down the hostile craft. Our information was scarce. The ID signal the craft was broadcasting declared it to be a ship originating from Earth, but the configuration was nothing in use by the E.D.A. or another agency. Further, sensor readings taken from the F/As showed that the sulfur-rich atmosphere was decidedly hostile to Earth-based life. The F/A craft patrolled the crash site while our transport caught up to them. No further information had been gathered by the F/A craft during this time. There was no movement from the wreckage. For certainly not the first time, my team would be engaging an unknown enemy, with unknown motives.

We landed about 250 meters from the crash site in the barren ice fields of the Arctic. As the bay door of our transport opened, we were buffeted by freezing winds. We were all wearing thermally insulated body sleeves beneath our armor, and goggles protected our eyes from the wind and glare. Still, we knew were in one of the more hostile environments on Earth. Thoughts of plunging into the depths five years ago entered my mind, but I pushed them back. Stewart and Karstein issued commands to the rest of the team to secure the landing zone. Once they were certain of its safety, I exited the craft with Nobis a step behind me.