Stone pushed a drink toward Espedie. "We'll pick them up later. We have time."
Espedie took the drink, eyeing it. Then he looked up, as Stone sipped the bourbon noisily. "Finally, we come to the Tejo military."
At that, Stone spit out a mouthful of bourbon. "What do you know about the military?"
"Nothing other than what was announced by Mary Hill on the news the other night." Espedie took a drink of the bourbon. He licked his lips appreciatively. "The rest I can guess. We are allied with the Confederation and the Gaean Alliance. Therefore our only potential enemy would be the unrecognized power of New Granada, am I right?"
Stone nodded, dabbing up whiskey with a towel retrieved from the liquor cabinet.
"Now, what I don't know is why New Granada would ever bother Tejo? It makes no sense at all. Unless..." Raton took another sip of bourbon. The bourbon burned his throat, but it gave him the courage to push forward. "It makes no sense unless Tejo plans to recruit migrant workers, possibly even tries to capture slaves from New Granada."
Stone nodded slowly. "I think you've had too much to drink, Espedie. Perhaps you should go home. Take a few weeks off. You've been working awfully hard."
Raton replaced the half-empty glass on Stone's desk. He stood and walked to the door. He turned. "Son, I should turn you over my knee and give you the spanking your father would if he were here. You can bet your ass I'll find out what's going on."
"Oh," Stone smiled. A newly set diamond sparkled in his front tooth. "I think Dad would be proud of what I'm doing."
Espedie stormed out of the office. Like an automaton, he walked into the elevator and fell against the wall. His heart beat rapidly. He went home and phoned Manuel and told him about the meeting. Too late, Manuel realized their mistake. By announcing what he knew and had figured out, Espedie had warned Stone to cover his tracks for the rest of the operation.
That night Espedie killed a bottle of tequila. Carmen put him to bed. She heard a faint rustling out in the yard. She put on her robe to look. As she stepped outside, a hepler beam fired. She fell dead, a ragged hole in her chest. Espedie stirred. He opened his eyes in time to see the cold, gray barrel of a hepler gun pointed at his nose. He opened his mouth to scream a moment before his head exploded. * * * *
Late that night, Manuel awoke. He heard only the noise of traffic. For some reason he could not sleep. He padded into the living room and turned on the holo news. He saw a familiar-looking house. His tired brain had a hard time placing it in the dark. A headless body was shown as it was taken from the house. Another body lay face down on the ground outside. All at once he recognized it. He bit down on his tongue suppressing tears. He tried to hear what the announcer was saying.
"...an unknown assailant broke into the home of respected businessman Espedie Raton..."
"Unknown, my ass!" Manuel shouted with tears in his eyes. "It was Stone, you fucker! It was Stone!" Manuel put his face in his hands and let deep sobs flow. Suddenly, he sat upright. "If they came for Dad, they'll come for me too." He thought of calling Firebrandt. Firebrandt would know what to do. Then he shook his head. Any call would be monitored. He thought about calling Juan to tell him. Again Manuel shook his head. The only answer was to get to safety as soon as possible. Only that way, could he fight.
Manuel rushed to the bedroom and threw on some clothes. He threw some things into a suitcase then rushed out to his hover. Manuel stopped suddenly as he touched the cool metal of the vehicle. He stepped back slowly, reached to the ground for a rock and tossed it onto the accelerator and fell to the ground. The hover exploded in a blinding flash of light. Dogs barked as debris rained from the sky. Stone had anticipated his action. Lights began to wink on in the houses.
Manuel stood and ran down the street finding a hover in his friend's driveway. A light snapped on and a bleary-eyed man appeared in the doorway. "I'm sorry, amigo," called Manuel as he hopped in and activated the control computer. He made a guess at the password. It worked. "You should never use your wife's name," he muttered. The hover was fully fueled. The man in the doorway suddenly realized what was happening. He shouted something that Manuel never heard. Manuel tore out of the driveway and straight through town, between buildings.
Tears streaming in his eyes, he tore through the forest he had come through with Sam Stone. He remembered the yelling and the laughter. He remembered the grand adventure and the partnership their fathers had which had brought them together. Stone had ruined the memory of Manuel Raton's childhood. As day began to break, Raton was over the desert. "Sam Stone will pay!" shouted Raton, his fist raised in hatred.
Manuel Raton drove full throttle into downtown Roanoke. He finally slowed down when he nearly hit a little boy on a tricycle. He made it to the shipping dock and slumped over the dash, heedless of the joystick prodding him in the stomach. He was too tired to cry anymore, but he was safe. All he had to do was buy a ticket home.
PART III
THE WAR
"There is many a boy here today who looks on war as all glory, but, boys, it is all hell. You can bear this warning voice to generations yet to come. I look upon war with horror."
—William Tecumseh Sherman from a speech to the Grand Army of the Republic Convention, August 1880.
THE CLUSTER
John Mark Ellis, son of Suki and Jerome Ellis, was twentythree years old. Like his grandfather, Ellison Firebrandt, he was restless and capable of a certain ferocity. John Mark Ellis was far more self-disciplined than Ellison Firebrandt, however, and perhaps more aware of his own compassion for others. Also, like his grandfather, John Mark Ellis was loyal to Earth. That loyalty led him to the Gaean Navy where he served as second lieutenant on the star cruiser, Astrolus.
Spaceflight, even at its peak, had never been well funded on Earth. Most of the Gaean Navy consisted of small, old, poorly maintained ships. The largest ships had three decks. When off duty, the crews of these ships slept in bunks lining the walls of the upper deck. The bunks of officers were only distinguished from those of enlisted men by being a little larger with curtains that could be drawn for privacy. Only the captain had a "cabin" of his own.
Ellis reclined on his bunk, his back against the bulkhead, and lit a thick, brown cigar. Gray smoke began to waft around his head. A small tired fan tried in vain to keep the smoke confined to Ellis' bunk space. Janelle Shoukry, third lieutenant, looked across to him. "Do you have to smoke one of those things?"
Ellis, a naval traditionalist, glared at his junior officer. "Do you have to smoke one of those things, sir," Shoukry snorted as she corrected herself.
"No," said Ellis. He continued smoking his cigar.
"Would you mind putting it out, sir?" asked Shoukry, her brown eyes watering.
"Yes." He picked up a book, turned on his faint overhead lamp and began to read with shadows of the smoke drifting lazily over the pages. Shoukry stared at him for a bit longer, contemplating what to do. Ellis ran fingers through his dark hair and turned a page.
"Sir, do you know that tobacco is illegal on Earth?" Shoukry said, trying a new approach.
"It's not illegal off-planet. Besides, it's not like the fumes are any more harmful than the one this old rust bucket spews from the air vents." The lieutenant's eyes remained fixed on the book.
Shoukry shook her head and lay back. She never knew quite what to make of John Mark Ellis. Most of the time, he seemed to live in a shell, quiet and reserved. Every now and again, he would break through the shell and be extremely friendly. When he would open up, he would speak at length of great literature or music. She saw hints of a remarkably sensitive and singular man. Even now, she suspected he was reading poetry: Shakespearian sonnets possibly, or one of the great writers of 29th century post-Slivan period.
Unfortunately, Ellis was refusing to allow his sensitive side to surface. Shoukry sighed, reached into her kit and retrieved a dairtox tablet, swallowed it, then rolled over and tried to get to sleep despite the smoke.
Ellis continued to read until K
aren Shankar, the ship's first lieutenant, appeared in the doorway. "Get your butts out of bed," she shouted. "The Old Man wants all officers on deck. There's an important message coming in." She spun on her heel to leave then turned back around. "Ellis, ditch the damn cigar. People are gonna exhaust their dairtox rations with you around."
"Aye aye, sir," said Ellis. He hopped out of his bunk and tossed the half-smoked cigar into the incinerator chute next to the bunks. He reached into his locker and grabbed a gray body suit, got into it, then tossed on his dark-blue uniform jacket. The chief mechanic had dozed off to sleep and was just sitting up on the bed. "Captain means now, Jones," said Ellis has he padded barefoot toward the bridge. Shoukry was buttoning her jacket and following.
They walked onto the bridge, looking disheveled. The Old Man didn't care. As Ellis had indicated to Jones, when the captain said he wanted all officers on deck, he meant immediately. With all officers on the bridge, in addition to the watch crew, it was crowded. Captain Angus MacPherson sat in the command chair with Karen Shankar at his side. The pilot, gunner and communicator sat at their stations lining the front of the bridge. Ellis, Shoukry, and Jones crowded in at the stern with the chief engineer.
The captains of naval vessels had, for centuries, been called "the Old Man." Slightly over half the captains in the fleet were women. About half of those captains were under fifty. Consequently, there was a joke that "the Old Man" was neither. This was not true of Angus MacPherson. He was a forty-year space veteran. His thick black beard was streaked in white. A scowl seemed permanently etched into his marblelike face.
As the officers settled into place, MacPherson ordered the bridge communicator to play the message. The voice was that of Admiral Marlou Strauss.
"Earlier today, the star cruiser Courageous encountered a new type of star vessel. It was larger than that belonging to any of the planets we know. Even the Titans say they have never encountered its like.
"Courageous attempted to make contact. The alien ship ignored her communications. The two ships faced each other for nearly an hour. At that point, the captain informed us of his intention to scan the vessel. We have not heard from the Courageous since that time." Strauss paused in her statement for a moment.
"We have been trying to reestablish communications—so far, no luck. It is possible that the alien interpreted the scan as a hostile act and attacked Courageous. They may be damaged, even destroyed. I want Astrolus to go in and investigate. Render aid if possible. Coordinates of the last transmission made by Courageous have been beamed to your pilot. Good luck." The speakers hissed faintly for a moment. The communicator turned them off.
MacPherson looked around the bridge. "We'll be at jump point in forty-five minutes. Go get something to eat, get ready, and then assume your stations."
Ellis, Jones and Shoukry padded back to their bunks while the chief engineer and first lieutenant moved beyond to the mess. Shoukry pulled off her uniform jacket and stretched. She looked down, annoyed at how pale her skin was. Space duty will do that, she reasoned. She put on her uniform shirt and put the jacket back on, adjusting it properly. She sat down on the bunk facing Ellis to put on her boots. "So much for a good night's sleep, eh?"
"Hey, where's that 'sir?'" Ellis teased. Shoukry smiled. Ellis was in a better mood. She wondered whether there was a correlation between danger and his cheeriness. They made their way back to the ship's mess.
The cook dropped plates of food in front of them as they sat down. The plates were covered with some kind of unidentified brown substance. "Cover it with enough gravy and we won't know what it is; is that your game, Cookie?" Ellis chided.
"Yeah, yeah," said the cook. "You better be nice to me, or tomorrow it'll be purple, sir."
Shoukry realized that Ellis was deliberately trying to keep the mood of the crew light. It was possible the alien ship would still be in the area. If that were true, they would be going into an extremely dangerous situation. As they ate, the captain made a general announcement to the crew, detailing the mission.
Cookie gathered up the dishes just before the pilot came over the intercom. "We have reached jump point. All hands assume your stations. All hands assume stations for jump point."
Ellis and Shoukry returned to the bridge. They sat in chairs next to the door at the rear. They each had monitors with control pads for the right hand so they could check progress on various parts of the ship. In addition to that, the communicator had a direct brain interface with all ship's systems, so if the consoles failed, he could take control of the ship and follow the captain's orders. That was, in fact, not a decision to be taken lightly. Usually direct brain interface with the entire ship left a person drained and useless. Ellis remembered history lessons about the days when people used to be used like that regularly. The practice was considered unethical by the standards of Ellis' time.
The captain looked around and saw that everyone was at his or her station, then ordered the jump. Reality collapsed on itself then emerged moments later. For a moment the ship seemed to scream. Then it sang. That was followed by silence. Shoukry found her knuckles white from gripping the arm of her chair. Ellis held his stomach. He never inherited his father's tolerance for jumps. Captain MacPherson seemed collected as always, his scowl unchanged. Ellis wondered about that. MacPherson reminded him of his father in a number of ways. The second lieutenant often wondered whether immunity to the jump was a prerequisite for a captain. Then he noticed that the captain's own knuckles were white. The Old Man was not immune.
"Ship hull integrity, normal," reported the pilot. He sounded as though he were trying to hold his dinner down.
"Ship's weapon's operational, sir," reported the gunner.
"Environmental systems normal, sir," stated Shoukry a little shakily.
Ellis took a deep breath. "Landing bay secure. No launches broke loose during jump. Engines operational, sir."
"Ship's communication's systems operational, sir," reported the communicator.
"Then where's my damn picture!" growled MacPherson gesturing toward the view screen.
The communicator hit a button and the holographic screen came to life. The bridge crew gasped in unison. The alien ship sat in full view, dwarfing the smaller, cylindrical Courageous in the upper right of the hologram. It was a large, iridescent sphere surrounded by many smaller spheres conglomerated around the outside. Ellis found himself transfixed by the image. It seemed to speak to some dark, unused corner of his brain. "Space has creatures far bigger than the whales, far more hot-blooded," remarked Ellis, under his breath. "It's a cluster of some kind," he stated more audibly.
"What, eh?" asked Shankar.
"Cluster," echoed the captain. "It's as good a name as any for the alien until we learn more." MacPherson sat forward, resting his chin on his fingers, his lips pursed. He studied the situation for a moment. "How large is the Cluster?"
Shankar checked her screen. "Approximately two hundred meters in diameter. Each of the outer spheres is
approximately ten meters in diameter. Reflectivity from the star in this system indicates that the spheres are quite smooth. I'll have to commence active scan to learn more, sir."
MacPherson held up his thick hand. "Don't. What's the status of the Courageous?"
Shankar performed an active scan of the sister ship. "She's been hulled, sir." There was a moment of silence on the bridge. "Hit between decks and in each section. There are no life signs over there."
"Lifeboats?" asked MacPherson staring at the screen. "None used, sir. They're all accounted for on the ship."
"Damn," muttered MacPherson. "Damn it all to hell." MacPherson banged his knee twice. "Communicator, try to contact that cluster ship. Use all known languages. Use prime numbers if you have to. Just try to get them talking. They're the only ones who know what happened."
"Aye aye, sir," responded the communicator. He sat back, using the chip implant in his head to try to contact the alien. He sat for a while. There was no signal on his implant. He tr
ied using ship's lights to signal the ship. The alien sat there and did nothing. "No response, sir."
"Approach, but as slowly as possible," ordered
MacPherson. Deep in thought, the Old Man stroked the end of his jet-black moustache.
As they started moving, the alien ship vanished. "Full stop," ordered the captain. "Where is she?" He gaped at the viewer. "Where is the Cluster?"
"Energy waves indicate she has something resembling an Erdon-Quinn engine aboard, sir. It appears she jumped," stated Shankar.
"But to where?" The Old Man bit his lower lip. He then sat up, straightening his uniform jacket. "Take us over to the Courageous. Communicator, copy their sensor logs to our computer. I want their readings of that ship as well as the ship logs. I want to know what happened."
"Aye aye, sir," said the pilot and communicator in unison.
As the Astrolus approached the Courageous it became clear that the attack had been executed with great precision. Ellis moved to stand behind the captain, studying the damage to the sister ship. The entire ship was black and motionless, including the EQ generator that normally glowed blue. Neat holes, like open mouths, gaped from the side of the ship. "Those blast points are too precise for any ship I know," said Ellis.
"Hmmph," muttered the captain. "We'll see what the sensor analysis shows."
"I have the records from the Courageous, sir," reported the communicator. "I'll display the camera log on the viewscreen."
"Do it." The Old Man sat back, folding his arms. As they watched, the alien ship returned to the screen. A green beam came from one of the spheres. Ellis jumped in spite of himself. The beam played in almost a strobe-like pattern across the screen.
"Switching to hull camera." The communicator's voice seemed out of place. The green beam moved down the hull of the ship. "These images were taken two minutes after Courageous completed her active scan of the alien."
"What do the scans of the alien vessel show?"
MacPherson's gaze was locked on the screen.
The Pirates of Sufiro (Book 1) (Old Star New Earth) Page 16