Gabriel's Redemption

by Steve Umstead

  Hugh grabbed him again, harder this time, and held tightly. “Admiral, watch what you say, sir,” Javier said from next to him in his tiny voice. “You don’t need additional charges brought against you. Treason is serious enough, don’t you think?”

  MacFarland’s struggles ceased, and he turned back to Gabriel. Hugh allowed him the slight movement. “How the hell did you…”

  Gabriel smiled slightly. “You said it yourself. I’m the best,” he said.

  Hugh started to lead MacFarland away. “One more thing, Admiral,” Gesselli said.

  “What now?” he replied in a defeated voice.

  “Your dew operation on Mars? That’s next on the list,” she said.

  “Along with your friends in Argentina,” Cáceres said quietly as Hugh led him past.

  “That pendejo Cáceres!” Tevez yelled.

  The group of men sat in the expansive main lounge of Tevez’s megayacht, the Mariella, named for one of Tevez’s mistresses, several of whom were lying on the deck above the lounge sunning themselves. The 162-foot twin-hulled hydrofoil was cruising slowly in the Golfo San Matias, several hundred miles south of Buenos Aires. The bright afternoon sun was blocked by the autopolarizing windows, leaving the lounge wrapped in a somber hue.

  “Señor, we have just gotten word that the last of the nuclear weapons has been found and deactivated,” one of the men said as he set down his comm on the table in front of him.

  “Dammit!” Tevez said, throwing his empty bourbon glass against the rear wall of the lounge. The unbreakable crystal left a dent in the veneer and bounced away. He looked at another man, who was nervously playing with a figurine on an end table. “And you,” Tevez pointed at him. “You’re sure the sleepers are not responding?”

  “Si, señor,” the man answered, setting the figurine back in its place. “We must assume they were discovered.”

  Tevez stood up from his seat and paced the room, his considerable bulk causing the decking underneath the plush carpet to creak. “We have to start again!” he shouted.

  “Señor, do you think that’s a good idea?” said the man who had reported the nuclear weapons information. “This must have been traced back to at least one of us.”

  “Yes, of course!” Tevez said sharply. “We cannot let one man, one setback, derail us from our plan. We will send our own people to that planet, take the antiaging technology ourselves.”

  He walked to the liquor shelf and poured a double bourbon into a new glass. Turning back to the men, he said, “But first, I want Cáceres’s family dead. I want their house burned to the ground. I want anyone he’s ever talked to dead.” He took a drink. “And then I want him found. And brought to me.”

  He smiled broadly. “This is only a minor challenge, caballeros! Let us drink to the new phase of the plan!”

  The men hesitantly raised their glasses in salute.

  Six women on the upper deck of the yacht sat drinking piña coladas under the bright sun, unaware of the impending danger. The torpedo streaked in at over eighty miles per hour, seventy feet deep. Barely a ripple was left on the ocean’s surface as it arrowed in towards the megayacht. Its proximity sensor sent a command to the water jets pushing it along, and it changed course slightly to correct for drift.

  At twenty feet from its target, it dove on a sharp angle, releasing a secondary charge. The charge shot up at an opposing angle, and detonated three feet below the Mariella’s starboard hull.

  The blast shot upwards with the force of a two kiloton nuclear explosion, but was conventional in composition. It released millions of joules of energy in a controlled chemical blast, which almost completely vaporized the yacht. What small bits of metal, plastic, flesh, or bone that survived the explosion flew straight upwards.

  A split second later, the torpedo’s primary charge detonated 150 feet below the surface. The resulting implosion of the modified fusion bomb created a massive vacuum pocket beneath the remnants of the yacht, sucking the debris down into the depths. A huge bubble rose from below, blasting steam as it broke the waves, and with that the Mariella ceased to exist.

  The periscope slid back under the surface and into its cradle. Captain Jared Gabriel flipped the periscope handles up, turning back to the red-tinged bridge of the SpecOps submarine. “Chief of the Boat, make your depth one hundred sixty feet, bring us to heading one eight zero, forty knots.”

  “Aye aye, captain,” said the man next to him. He turned to the helmsman. “Helm, heading one eight zero, forty knots. Dive officer, take us to one six zero feet,” he snapped.

  Captain Gabriel walked over to one of the officers seated at a screen. “Son, please note that at,” he paused, looking at his watch. “At fourteen thirty two local time, the NAFSS Aardvark had an accidental firing of the experimental Mark Ninety One fusion torpedo. No casualties, no damage. Aardvark returning to shakedown cruise in Antarctica.”

  “Aye aye, sir!” the young man spoke up, tapping at keys.

  The chief of the boat walked over to Gabriel as the captain returned to the center of the conn. “Jared, what exactly was that all about?” he asked in a low voice.

  Gabriel smiled. “Just a favor for a friend. Forget it ever happened.”

  The chief laughed. “Not the first time you and I have done something like that,” he said quietly. “And I’m guessing not the last?”

  Gabriel returned his laugh and slapped him on the arm. “As you were, Chief.”

  The NAFSS Aardvark turned course and headed south, only a shredded lifejacket in its wake.

  Chapter 34

  “Commander Evan Gabriel, please rise.”

  Gabriel stood up, straightening his dress whites. Beside him stood Renay Gesselli and his navy advocate. Behind him, in the court seating area, sat the rest of his team: Takahashi, Brevik, Jimenez, and Sowers, all in their immaculate dress uniforms, but none sporting as many medals as Gabriel.

  “Commander Gabriel,” the presiding judge said. “This court martial was convened for the express purposes of determining guilt in the unlawful invasion of a sovereign world.”

  Gabriel shifted a bit at the mention of invasion. The court martial was normally a formality with an operation such as they had been on, especially when lives had been lost, but in this case the court-appointed prosecutor was very aggressive in pursuing the minute details. The trial had already gone on over two weeks, with the prosecutor calling numerous colonial law experts and ambassadors. The panel of officers seated to his left had obviously reached the end of their patience, and several times over the last day or two Gabriel had seen them checking watches, yawning, and for all intents and purposes, ignoring the prosecutor’s case. However he still felt apprehensive, as the presiding judge was adamant about following through on the line of reasoning presented by the ambitious prosecutor.

  “Lieutenant Budzik has presented a strong case against you, Commander,” the judge said. “Even though this operation was under orders of the former admiral, who has since been sentenced to life in military prison, those orders have been deemed unlawful, and as such, the operation itself unlawful.”

  “Your honor,” Gabriel’s advocate cut in. “As I’ve stated numerous times, the colony government has declined to press…”

  “I’m aware of that, Chief Taylor,” the judge said harshly. “We’ve heard your arguments. We don’t need to hear them again.”

  “Yes your honor, of course,” Taylor said, lowering his gaze.

  “As I was saying,” the judge continued. “This was an unlawful and unsanctioned trespass on a sovereign world. The Federation Uniform Code of Military Justice, Section 92, Subsection a, is quite clear on this.”

  Budzik nodded smugly. Gabriel caught the gesture out of the corner of his eye and felt the heat rising up through his stiff collar.

  “However,” the judge said, and Budzik’s smirk disappeared. “In light of the outcome of the operation, which resulted in preventing a massive conspiracy that threatened the Federation itself, the court has dec
ided to be lenient.”

  Gabriel cocked his head, looking over at Gesselli. She shrugged slightly as if to say, beats me.

  “Commander Gabriel, we have decided to recommend you for the North American Federation Navy Cross, and recommend your team members for North American Federation Medals of Combat Valor. Including a posthumous award for Chief Warrant Officer St. Laurent.”

  Gabriel was stunned, but no more so than Budzik, who sputtered his opposition. “Your honor, we have shown without a doubt that Commander Gabriel broke the law! It’s a simple…”

  The judge chopped her hand down sharply, cutting off Budzik’s protests. “Yes, Lieutenant. We and the panel agree. It has therefore been decided that Commander Gabriel will be demoted to Lieutenant Commander, effective immediately, and be reduced by one pay grade.”

  Budzik’s face grew red. “Your honor, are you serious?”

  “I’m dead serious, counselor,” she said sternly. “And I suggest you conduct yourself a little more respectfully in the presence of a Navy Cross recipient.” The judge looked over at Gabriel and added, “Pending, of course.”

  “Your honor, sirs,” Gabriel said, addressing the officers in the panel. “Thank you, sirs. I appreciate the honor, and the, ah, new rank.”

  Sowers snorted behind him, turning it into a cough into his hand. Jimenez elbowed him in the ribs, cutting off the laugh.

  “Lieutenant Commander Gabriel, thank you for your distinguished service,” the judge said. “Now get out of my courtroom. I believe there is a liaison officer in the hall with new orders for you.”

  Gabriel placed his hat back on his head and gave a crisp salute. “Thank you sirs, your honor.” Turning to Budzik, he saluted again, this one more causal. “Well played, Lieutenant.” And with that, he left the courtroom through the main doors, Gesselli and his advocate on his heels, leaving a fuming Budzik staring at his back.

  In the hall, Gabriel was joined by his team, each of them slapping him on the back in congratulations. Gabriel turned to his advocate. “Chief Taylor, thanks for your help. I know I said I didn’t need it,” he said, the chief rolling his eyes in response. “But you helped tremendously. If there’s anything I can do for you…”

  Taylor simply saluted. “No sir, you let me know if there’s anything I can do for you.” He dropped his hand. “I just wish I could tell someone about what you and your team did.”

  “Nope,” Gesselli said. “Sworn to secrecy, under penalty of court martial, right counselor?”

  Taylor shook his head. “I know. Sucks. Ma’am.” He looked at the rest of the team. “Buy the new Lieutenant Commander a beer for me, okay?”

  Jimenez punched Taylor lightly in the shoulder. “Absolutely, chief. Just slip me your bank datacode!”

  Taylor laughed and saluted once more. “Thank you again, sir, and good luck in your new assignment.”

  Gabriel returned the salute. “Thank you chief.” He looked around the hallway. “Where is that liaison anyway?”

  Gesselli stepped in front of his gaze. “You’re looking at her, Lieutenant Commander.”

  Gabriel’s eyebrows rose a millimeter. “You?” he asked. His team was looking at her in surprise.

  “Yes, as a matter of fact I received my orders this morning,” she replied, that same smirk crossing her face as when he first met her. Only now, he thought, it held quite a different meaning. She reached into an inner jacket pocket and withdrew a small blue envelope.

  “Wait, you knew the outcome of the trial already?” Sowers asked behind her.

  “Can’t say, Mister Sowers,” she replied. “Sworn to secrecy.”

  Gabriel took the envelope. “So is the assignment secret also?”

  “Not at all,” she replied. “You’ve been welcomed back into the NAF. Sort of a redemption, wouldn’t you say?” She smiled. “Of course, once you hear the assignment, you may not feel quite so redeemed.”

  “Spit it out, Lieutenant, that’s an order,” Gabriel said.

  She laughed. “Yes, you’re still my superior officer, although now just barely.” She paused for dramatic effect, turning back to the others. “You may as well all know, since you’re all going as well.”

  “Wha??” Jimenez said. Sowers looked apprehensive next to him, Brevik pursed his lips, and Takahashi started to turn a shade of green.

  “We’ve got three days liberty,” she continued. “Then we ship out on the next flight to Mars. It seems there’s a major security issue there, and the government has permitted the NAF to send…advisors.”

  “That rathole?” Sowers asked incredulously. “We’re going to receive medals, then end up on Mars?”

  “At ease, Petty Officer,” Gesselli warned. “We’re under orders.”

  “Wait,” Gabriel cut in, looking at the faces of his team, then back to Gesselli. “You said we?”

  Gesselli nodded. “Yes, we. I’m part of the advisory team being sent to liaise with the Mars government.” She pointed at Gabriel’s chest. “You guys are the hired muscle.”

  Sowers groaned. “Oh no, my worst nightmare.”

  Gesselli shifted her hand and poked him in the ribs. “You ain’t seen nothing yet, Mister Sowers. You haven’t spent a night in point six G under a dome. Amazing nightmares you end up with.”

  Sowers groaned again. “Save me…”

  Brevik spoke up. “You said three days liberty?”

  Gesselli turned to the large man. “Yes, we ship out Thursday morning.”

  Brevik continued, turning to Gabriel. “Sir, we should all go out tonight to the O-Club. I believe we should all have a drink for Tee.”

  Gabriel looked into the big man’s eyes as the group got quiet. “I think that’s an excellent idea, Lieutenant. First round of red wine in her honor is on me.”

  Takahashi patted the big man on the back. “Let’s do it, Harris. Lead on.”

  Gabriel watched the team head towards the main doors. The winter Toronto sunlight was streaming in, silhouetting the figures. He was glad the team could stay together, even on a backwater like Mars. The mission had developed an unusually-strong camaraderie between them; maybe even more so than his original Eden squad had. Eden, the memory was already fading, helped along by the death of Santander, the architect of the massacre.

  As the six of them walked through the doors, his mind felt as at ease as it had in years. He was looking forward to a red wine.

  Epilogue

  Four months later…

  Evan Gabriel, Lieutenant Commander, NAF, rolled out of bed, his bare feet hitting the floor with a thump. He raised his arms over his head, stretching out the knots. He did a quick message scan in his neuretics: nothing but basic security check ins from the previous night. He looked over at the nightstand to the empty bottle of cabernet sauvignon. Long Range Vineyards, it said on the label. St. Laurent & Cáceres, in smaller letters underneath. He gave St. Laurent’s memory a silent salute, glad that Ignacio Cáceres had decided to relocate to the NAF with his family and take over her vineyard plans.

  He walked over to the window and looked out at the street below. This early in the morning, Bradbury’s inhabitants hadn’t yet risen to head to work. Looking down ten floors, he saw the coffee vendor setting up his cart. He closed his eyes, looking forward to a cup of the hot brew before hitting the grind. Bad pun, he thought with an inner smile.

  He ran through the messages in his Mindseye. One from Jimenez, a status report from his team’s cleanup efforts in the south quarter. One from Sowers, more of a hello call than anything, just checking in from his rotation in the nearby township of Providence. Takahashi, reporting on the refurbishment and refitting of Santander’s chemical plant. And one from Brevik, confirming their ten hundred hours appointment with the mayor.

  “Evan, come back to bed,” a sleepy voice came from behind him.

  He continued to look out the window, enjoying the memory of the bottle of cab, and the company, from the night before. For the past three months, he had been nightmare-free. Thanks in sma
ll part to the successful mission, and thanks in large part to his bedmate.

  “Can’t,” he said. “Have to go to work.”

  “You’ve got a few minutes,” the voice said in a sultry tone. “Anyway, I know the man in charge. I believe you can be a little late today.”

  Gabriel’s neuretics ordered the windows to polarize a bit, and the room darkened. He turned and padded softly over to the bed. He knelt at the edge, took the woman’s proffered hand, and kissed it.

  “I do have a few minutes. What did you have in mind, Lieutenant?”

  Renay Gesselli smiled and pulled him into bed roughly. “I don’t know, sir. What are your orders?”

  TIMELINE

  2025: Approximate date of Poliahu’s asteroid collision

  2056: First colony, New Hope, established on Mars

  2057: South American War, started by Hector Elizares, self-appointed dictator of Columbia and Venezuela. Four major cities in Peru, including the capital of Lima, are destroyed by nuclear weapons. The nations of Argentina & Brazil joined forces to overthrow Elizares and form La Republica de Sudamerica (SAR).

  2061: Formation of the North American Federation, consisting of the United States, Canada, Mexico, Cuba, and most of the Central American and Caribbean countries.

  2062: Dissolution of NASA

  2072: Poliahu discovered by Kewe Iohunukonu

  2087: First wormhole discovered by Masahiro Takahashi

  2091: First wormhole gate constructed, named Ryokou

  2135: Food Riots on Mars

  2140: Poliahu targeted for colonization

  2160: Dark Days begin with an asteroid impact in Shanghai. Massive tsunamis wipe out Koreas, Taiwan, Japan, and most major cities on the west coast of US & Mexico. World economy devastated by loss of major economic centers (Seoul, Shanghai, Taiwan, Tokyo, Los Angeles, San Francisco, Vancouver, Seattle, Hawaii). Climate affected by dust cloud from impact and multiple volcanic eruptions along the Pacific Rim, global temperature drops nearly six degrees, devastating loss of plant and animal life. World descended into chaos with almost two years of near darkness.