by Bob Mauldin
Spheres of Influence
Stellar Heritage
Book Two
BOB MAULDIN
Copyright © 2019 Bob Mauldin
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by
Blade of Truth Publishing Company
Cover art: Covers by Christian
This is a work of fiction. All characters, places, and events portrayed in these stories are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is coincidental.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
Contact the publisher via email at: [email protected]
ISBN-13: 978-1-64248-011-5
ASIN: B07TZ9MFSZ
Contents
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
FUGUE
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
FUGUE
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
FUGUE
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
PROLOGUE
Rentec do’ Verlas, Minister for Spatial Affairs to the Shiravan Polity, usually enjoyed his visits to Minister Foran’s offices because he’d noticed of late that the minister’s secretary was showing more than passing interest in him. As a high-ranking, unattached male in the expanding Shiravan space program, he was, he knew, a “good catch,” and therefore tended to view any female advances with a great deal of skepticism. But this secretary of Minister Foran’s was different. Hired just over a year earlier from the common labor pool, she’d come to the minister’s office with the highest recommendations from her superiors in Personnel Placement. This had occurred at just about the same time he’d been elevated to his father’s post by the bomb that had killed his father and severely injured his mother.
The shy young woman with the amazingly red eyes had never said anything to him that was not strictly within the bounds of Shiravan protocol, but every time he entered a room she was in, she began to drop things, or stutter, or trip. And though he usually discounted the rumors that inevitably abounded anywhere so many people co-existed, his interest had been piqued by the stories passed to him by co-workers, who said she oh-so-casually asked about him on occasion. Perhaps it was time he did something about it. His mother wasn’t one to let a son go unattached forever, and if he didn’t find a mate on his own, there was no telling who she’d saddle him with.
“Good morning, Ramannie,” he said, staring at her frankly and taking a chance on getting lost in her ruby gaze. “Is the Minister ready to see me yet?”
“Yes, M-minister do’ Verlas he is,” the girl said as papers spilled off the stack in her hands. “He canceled his morning appointments r-right after you called. You may go right in.” Twice missing the button that opened the door to the inner office, she had to look down to find and press it.
“Good morning, Minister Foran,” the younger man said as he entered the office.
“In this office, you may call me Mondel, Rentec.” He turned to a device on his desk and spoke into it. “Ramannie, please bring in a tray of refreshments.” Looking back to his guest, the older minister asked, “And how is your revered mother this morning?”
“As well as can be expected, sir. She had to have a lung replaced and quite a bit of skin grafting after the explosion, as well as a few weeks in a regeneration chamber, but she’s mending well. Of course, she still mourns the loss of my father. And she won’t stop trying to find me a mate. I sometimes think she does it just to irritate me. Oh, and she sends her regards.”
“Those things are ever a mother’s province, Rentec, and not a thing you can do except find a mate on your own. Thank you, Ramannie,” Mondel said as the woman entered with a tray.
Ceremoniously setting two wooden cups in front of the two men, she carefully poured a green liquid into each cup from a crystal decanter.
“Take my regards and condolences to her when you next go home, and tell her I said you’re filling your father’s position quite well,” the minister said. “So tell me, what made you go to the trouble of making a formal appointment this fine morning?”
“It’s about Colony Ship 478. You may remember that five turnings ago a scout ship came back from Descaret Four, and all the data showed it to be nearly perfect for colonization. Its light is a little too much on the yellow side and gravity’s a bit higher than we would have liked, but otherwise it’s a great prospect. Since we had a colony ship nearly completed—number 478, the Dalgor Kreth—we sent it out as soon as it was crewed. All the senior officers and most of the crew were veterans. Only twenty were new personnel. It took just over a turning to get there, another turning to get the infrastructure mined from the asteroid belt, and another turning to return. By our best estimates, the ship should have arrived over half a turning ago. We’ve had no word of any kind, and according to standard operating procedures, I, as Spatial Minister, have to formally list the ship as ‘missing.’ To that end, it’s my duty to request that you, as Minister of Colonization, order any and all ships to begin searching for the missing vessel and crew.”
Mondel silently gathered his thoughts as he watched the young woman putter around, cutting small edibles, which she set on plates and placed in front of each man. She then looked expectantly at the older man.
“Thank you, Ramannie, you may go now,” the Minister for Colonization said. “There’s no reason to bore you with any of this.” The minister looked at the younger as the office door closed. “While it is my responsibility to order such a search, it’s yours to know if a vessel is available to perform the search.”
“I’m sure you received my report about the colonist ship that had to return because the Dalgor Kreth wasn’t in-system and had apparently not been there at all since no work had been done to receive the colonists.”
As they spoke, both nibbled at the platter on the table before them.
“Survey Vessel 264 has just finished its latest refit. The captain and crew would be happy to engage in such a search, and the thought of a salvage bonus has been dangled in front of them.”
“Salvage bonus is always a potent argument,” the minister said. He looked down into the cup in his hand “How is it that kemwood can impart such an intoxicating flavor to anything poured into it and still leave one perfectly sober afterwards? Ah well, one of the little mysteries of life.”
Mondel stood and led Rentec to the office door. As he opened the door, he said, “I’ll authorize 264 to embark as soon as they can be provisioned. But understand, not one other vessel can be spared at this time. We’ll have to await their report before I can authorize other craft away from their duties. I’ll suggest that they proceed directly to Descaret Four first. The captain will have discretionary powers to alter the schedule as
she sees fit after exploring the area.”
As Rentec took his leave of his elder, he stopped at Ramannie’s desk. Looking into her eyes, he said, “Good day to you Ramannie kep Gillas. Perhaps one day soon you’ll do me the honor of having dinner with me.”
“I-it would be my p-pleasure, Minister do’ Verlas,” she said without raising her eyes from her desk.
CHAPTER ONE
Chaos reigned supreme on the Galileo. Lucy stood on the bridge, swaying as if she’d been sucker-punched. Simon dead? All the away team’s bio-monitors were red across the board. Lucy shook herself visibly and turned to the monitors showing Kitty’s condition. There was far more red than green for her liking, that was for sure.
The aftermath of what was quickly coming to be known as “the debacle at Camp David” was that the United States was now short a vice president, leaving Speaker of the House Dennis Hastings to move into the second most powerful position in the land. The event had also left the country deeply divided, sending the world on a witch hunt.
In addition to the vice-president, ambassadors from Russia, Great Britain, China, France, Spain, and Portugal had died in the explosion, along with representatives from half a dozen third-world countries. The list also included an unknown number of “covert operatives” from a little-known outfit called the Defense Intelligence Agency, whose members were beginning to scurry around like a bunch of cockroaches exposed to the light. This agency’s chief operative, known by a variety of names—the latest of which was John Anderson—was nowhere to be found and was presumed to have died in the explosion, although most members of the intelligence community weren’t taking bets.
Losses on the American side included five Apache helicopters and their crews, as well as some two dozen Marines assigned to Camp David’s perimeter defense force. Losses on the Terran Alliance side were one shuttle, one Mamba, four dead, and one critically injured.
Dr. Penn wasn’t sure how Kitty had managed to survive the explosion, much less the transport back to the Galileo and then the trip to sick bay. He’d had her placed on the table farthest from the door. It was part of the Galileo’s original equipment—a solid rectangular pillar slightly too high for humans to work comfortably. Up until then, it hadn’t been a problem since patients were rare due to the extremely reliable nature of the technology they’d acquired.
With the help of a portable x-ray machine he’d brought aboard, he began his examination. Thirty minutes later, he delivered a harrowing diagnosis to Lucy.
She looked at the body of her friend, now supreme commander, and quaked with each word the doctor uttered.
“Two broken legs, the right one in two places, cracked pelvis, spine broken in the lumbar region, three broken ribs on the left side, left arm broken in two places, and a massive concussion. In addition, her corneas are burnt, most likely from her proximity to the explosion. Her left lung is punctured, and considering the obvious pounding her body’s taken, there’s bound to be bruising to many of her internal organs. I won’t know for sure until I can get a better look. What she needs is a state-of-the-art medical facility, but I won’t even consider moving her until I can get her stabilized—if I can do that.”
Several hours later, after turning the sickbay into a makeshift surgery, Dr. Penn had dealt with the punctured lung, set the various broken bones, taped her ribs, and administered what medication he could to make her comfortable and combat the shock. When he felt he’d done all he could, he sent his two assistants off to clean up and stepped into the corridor to call Lucy. Breaking a major rule, he left the door to sickbay open, pulled out his commlink, and lit a cigarette. He nodded to the two guards who’d been placed there to keep the corridor clear and took the first satisfying drag, exhaling in relief. As he did so, he heard a sound that reminded him of airbrakes bleeding down and turned just in time to witness a sight that left him speechless and raised the hairs on the back of his neck.
Dumbfounded, Dr. Penn watched as a transparent cover slid out of an as-yet-unnoticed hole in the wall, covering Kitty’s body and meeting a semicircular piece rising up out of the base of the table. He now realized what the two recessed tracks along the long sides of the table were for but wished he didn’t. Hermetic sealing was nothing new to him. He punched in Lucy’s comm frequency, and as he waited for her to answer, he saw panels opening up in the table’s surface along Kitty’s body and watched, horrified, as things came out of the holes and attached themselves near her ankles and wrists, including a darkened patch that covered her eyes, nose, and mouth.
Lucy answered as a light mist began to fill the interior of the... device. Shock making his voice rock steady, all he could say was, “There’s a problem with the captain. You should get down here right away.” Finally noticing the forgotten cigarette, he snuffed it out with shaking hands and dropped it in a disposal.
A flustered Dr. Penn was bent over the casing that enclosed Kitty, stethoscope pressed against it, when Lucy stormed into the room. Sliding to a halt, she asked, “What the hell have you done, Doctor?”
“I haven’t done anything,” the doctor replied indignantly. “At least, nothing I wasn’t supposed to do, which was to make her as comfortable as possible and get as much done as I could before transporting her downside. She needs specialists now. I’m not experienced in spinal injuries, and she needs a real specialist to work on her pelvis.”
“Well, what’s happening?” Lucy demanded as she tried unsuccessfully to peer into the cover.
The doctor described what he’d seen and pointed out the places—visible once he knew where to look in the mist—where hoses and tubes had come out of the table and either connected to or entered Kitty’s body. There was something covering the area around her pelvis. There were four black bands that circled her arms and legs just above her wrists and ankles, with tubes a quarter-inch thick running down into the table. And a black band covered her mouth, nose, and damaged eyes.
“We have to get her out of there!” Lucy exclaimed.
“That was my first response also, Captain, but I’m no longer sure of that. What I can see shows me that she’s still breathing. If there was a limited amount of oxygen in there, she’d have already used it up. If you look closely, you can see her chest rising and falling regularly. Slowly, but regularly. And whatever is in charge of this process has attached cuffs to her arms and legs at optimal points to access arteries for flushing the blood of toxins or administering drugs.”
The doctor fiddled with the Zippo he’d pulled back out of his pocket. “What’s controlling this process and whether we should take her out of there is anybody’s guess. At any rate, she doesn’t seem to be any worse off than if she were out of there.”
Lucy laid a hand on the container. “For the time being, since you feel that she’s in no danger, we’ll keep things as they are. I don’t like it, but it doesn’t look like we have any choice. I’ll have the engineers look into this situation, and I expect you to keep me apprised of any changes in her status. That is your top priority. Understood, Doctor?”
Dr. Penn drew himself up to his full, not inconsiderable height and said gravely, “Captain Grimes, I consider Captain Hawke to be a most important patient. With the death of her husband, she’s the single most important person in our organization.”
“I’m glad we agree, Doctor.” Lucy took one more look at the container. “All I can say is do the best you can with what you have available. Now, there are several things I need to see to.” As she left sickbay, she looked at her watch and noted that it was only two p.m.
Forcibly pushing Kitty’s situation to the back of her mind, Lucy headed back to Galileo’s ready room. Hating the thought of sitting in Simon’s chair, she did so reluctantly and picked up the personnel roster she’d ordered. Anxiety tingling her thoughts, she looked for someone—anyone—who could take over command of the Galileo.
Her commlink chimed, interrupting her thoughts. Picking it up, she snapped, “Grimes.”
A
nervous ensign, bucked up to second watch by the loss of crew transferred to Libra Base, stammered, “M-ma’am, communication from the Heinlein. Captain Kane’s compliments, and she says they plan to dock with the Galileo within two hours.”
Lucy sat up with a start. What the hell, she thought. Marsha was in the belt the last I heard.
Aloud, she asked the ensign, “How is she going to dock in two hours? Where is the Heinlein?”
“Ma’am, scan reports the Heinlein’s beacon at two hours out. That’s all I can tell you.”
Lucy’s first order of business had been to send messages to all bases and the Heinlein, informing them of the disaster. She hadn’t expected anyone to show up in much less than a week, and she’d certainly have questions for Marsha about how she’d managed this feat.
As for what was going on down below, the United States was reeling. Kitty’s two antimatter missiles, combined with the shuttle’s power core blowing up, had taken out a sizable chunk of real estate. At the present time, government estimates as to the number of people killed were fifty-six, not counting dignitaries and Simon’s team. And of course, that number being revised upward was a very real possibility because there were generally no remains with an antimatter explosion. So, for the time being, that total was going to remain a guesstimate, albeit a close one.
Lucy had tried several times to reach Galway but had received no answer on the special comm circuit set up just for him. She’d decided to beam down and call his private number when word of the Heinlein’s arrival reached her.
Her commlink chimed again. She sighed and picked it up. “Grimes,” she said in a resigned voice.
“Captain, this is Commander Nellis, Senior Computer Technician,” a hesitant voice said.