House of the Silent Moons

by Tom Shepherd

  Nzeogwu threw open the door and shouted for the Commonwealth Marshalls, who split their forces—half to keep the warring parties in the corridor from introducing weapons into the white flag venue, while the other peace-keepers rushed into the melee, arrested all eight bodyguards and pulled the combatants apart.

  Restrained by two beefy Terran Marshals, Noah hurled a final declaration at the bloody-faced enemy.

  “You just pissed off the wrong Indian!”

  Xavier followed as the Capital cops dragged his brother-in-law from the peace conference. The officers outside the room had restrained, cuffed, and separated both security details. Senator Solorio received assurances from the senior Marshall that all parties would most likely be released without charges, since the disturbance resulted from a diplomatic failure of the Commonwealth government.

  The Marshalls apologized to Noah and asked if there were anything he needed. Before he could answer, the ranking officer, who looked Pakistani, received a datacom text.

  “Sir, will you come with me? The Chief Executive wants to see you.”

  Noah nodded. “Senator, you’re in this with me.”

  They followed the Pakistani Marshall toward a set of executive elevators guarded by a heavily armed trio of Terran Marines.

  Xavier managed a smile. “You are a very unpredictable man, Cuñado.”

  “Your sister seems to like that quality.”

  The senator’s smile faded. “What Haruto said about Bianca and Rosalie—I wish you had killed him. I wanted to kill him, myself.”

  “I lost it back there. We should have gotten up and walked out of the room. Damnit!” Noah frowned at the Marshall as they waited for the lift. It opened and the Marines stepped aside. “Let’s see what Rodney’s dad wants.”

  * * * *

  Roland Rooney stood at his massive, fan-shaped oak desk and nodded to the executive assistant who ushered Noah Matthews and Xavier Solorio into the world Chief Executive’s suite. To the left of Rooney’s work station, the office wall opened onto a palm-shaded rooftop garden with a putting green of natural grass, something Noah didn’t expect to find twenty-eight stories over the Jerusalem capital. A thin woman with black hair and olive skin stood behind the Commonwealth Secretary-General. She carried a medical bag, strapped over her shoulder.

  “Well, now. If it isn’t Quixote and Sancho.” Rooney gestured to high-back chairs in front of his desk. “Senator Solorio, Mr. Matthews, welcome to the post-fight interview show. Coffee, tea, something stronger?”

  “Don’t bother, Roland.” Noah flopped in the chair, suddenly aware his knuckles were scraped and bleeding. “I’ll try not to drip on the Persian.”

  “Doctor Sağlık, have a look at Mr. Mathews’ hands, please.”

  The doctor Noah waved her off. “I’m fine.”

  “That antique rug is worth twenty million. And you’re not fine. Sağlık, treat his god-damned injuries.”

  Noah allowed the physician to sweep his hands with a medi-scanner, clean the wounds with UBK solution, and shine a regenerative beam on lacerated knuckles.

  “Nice office, Mr. Secretary-General. Good to know my utility bills are buying you quality digs.”

  Sağlık finished and departed on cue. Rooney called for coffee laced with Irish whiskey, which arrived in less than a minute in the hands of his male assistant. Noah and Xavier sipped silently while the Commonwealth CEO explained why he summoned them.

  “First, I want to thank your family members for saving Rodney’s life. He has contacted me every day and cannot find enough superlatives to express his gratitude to your son’s fiancé, Suzanne London, and the Senator’s daughter, Dr. Julieta Solorio.” Rooney broke into a grin. “And he is crazy in love with that hologram-turned-human, Arabella. My wife was appalled until she talked with her via Apexcom. Now, she’s planning the wedding like Rodney was marrying the Queen of England.”

  Noah nodded. “Tyler says Arabella is a brilliant engineer like Rodney.

  She’s fiercely loyal, beautiful, and equally in love with your kid.”

  Rooney took a sip of the whiskey-coffee. “Guess we’re both doomed to have grandchildren from bioenergetic women.”

  Noah took a gulp and it tingled his mouth. “Okay, Mr. Secretary-General, what can we do for you?”

  “You can put that sonuvabitch Tsuchiya out of business before he brings down the Commonwealth.”

  “Are you up for this fight, Roland? Hideki Tsuchiya is a powerful enemy.”

  Rooney nodded. “Do I have a choice? First Rodney shoots him, then you kick his son’s ass at a peace conference called by my government. Neither of you are in custody, and there will be no arrest warrant issued.”

  Noah laughed. “Roland, expect consequences for your inaction.’

  Rooney grinned. Yeah, I think both our families are off Tsuchiya’s Christmas list.”

  Xavier leaned forward. “Do you seriously think he can destroy eight centuries of cooperative union among the people of Terra?”

  “Seems to be his goal,” Rooney said. “The colonial legislature at New Osaka just voted to secede from the Commonwealth. They’re calling themselves the New Galactic Empire. Their propaganda campaign calls for ‘Millions of star systems united by one spirit, following Bushido, the path of honor.’ I don’t think the self-appointed Shōgun ever intended to achieve a settlement today.”

  Noah said, “The old rat-fucker wants to be Emperor.”

  “That he does,” Rooney agreed. “I just finished a brief holo-call with the real Japanese Emperor, Kōtei Taishō, and Prime Minister Ōkuma. His Majesty expressed ‘grave concerns’ about the future of ethnic Japanese living in Tsuchiya’s New Empire.”

  Noah grunted. “For a Japanese Emperor, ‘grave concerns’ is the equivalent of ringing a starship collision alarm.”

  “Perdóname,” Xavier said. “Sakura House does not have the muscle to stage an insurrection, let alone restore the Galactic Empire.”

  “The Parvians do,” Rooney said.

  Don’t fuck with the Parves. Noah felt a cold chill up his spine. “They’re not expansionist.”

  “They signed a mutual defense treaty with the New Osaka government today, immediately after Tsuchiya’s separatists declared independence.”

  Noah said, “Xavier, have you heard any reports from Parvian sources?”

  “Only rumors about discontent with recent events.”

  Rooney sighed. “Not rumors any more. Disturbances along the border with the Quirt-Thyme Empire triggered their paranoid tendencies.”

  “The new Quirt-Thymean ruler made peace overtures to the Parvian Republic,” Noah said. “My sons helped him regain his throne. Emperor Heirzos is clearly not aggressive.”

  Rooney shrugged. “Apparently, the threat posed by those Quirt expansionists whom Heirzos replaced has rattled his neighbors. My sources tell me there is a growing faction in the Parvian Republic pushing for a return to the old ‘dominate or be dominated’ philosophy of yesteryear.”

  “I’ve heard the same report about the Saurians, Rek Kett, Yak Na,” Noah said. “The neo-expansionist fever seems to be spreading.”

  “But the Parvians and Tsuchiya’s so-called ‘New Empire’ have signed a mutual defense treaty,” Xavier said. “It’s merely an insurance policy.”

  “And we need to update our coverage.” Rooney turned to Noah. “You and I are not friends, but we have a common enemy. As the Chief Executive, I can’t officially take sides in your dispute, but I’ll find a few zillion glitches to keep Tsuchiya from moving war supplies or doing business with Terran allies.”

  “That won’t be enough,” Noah said. “The Parves have to stay benched, off the playing field. We’re having this conversation because you knew they owe me a big favor.”

  “Exactly. I want you to collect on that debt. Best case scenario—get the Parvian navy to blow a hole in Tsuchiya’s war machine. We’ll provide a list of targets. It might scuttle their alliance as a bonus.”

  “The Parves are
all about honor,” Noah said. “They won’t like it when Tsuchiya tells them I beat his son bloody at a peace conference. No wonder the bastard goaded me. And I fell for it.”

  Rooney smirked. “Thinking with your fists, Matthews? We’ll have to make you an honorary Irishman.”

  Noah smiled. “My Lakota ancestors would like your red hair.”

  The Chief Executive laughed. “We have one more item to discuss. Your son’s mission to Pirate space.”

  “Purely a legal matter. Tyler is defending Capitão Flávio Tavares, the privateer who has been working covertly for M-double-I. The so-called Free Enterprise League arrested him for espionage and treason.”

  Rooney smirked. “Save the blarney for the working class, Matthews. I know what Tyler’s really after, and so does Tsuchiya. The trove of ancient technology discovered by the Dengathi.”

  Noah nodded. “Yeah, I figured you knew. The bastardization of capitalism. My spies are selling information to more than one buyer.”

  Senator Solorio swished the coffee cup in his hand. “If Sakura House gets its hands on that armory from the old Empire, it will boost their fantasy about establishing a new one.” He finished the cup.

  “Best shot is to beat Tsuchiya to the prize,” Rooney said. “Tyler must get that rascal Tavares acquitted.”

  Xavier shrugged. “Why hasn’t the Shōgun simply captured someone from the Dengathi Lagoon and tortured him until he tells where the derelict is anchored?”

  “Tyler believes the key is two Drifter Gates,” Noah said. “Apparently, very few Dengathi know how to access both.”

  “I pray for his success,” Rooney said. “Our survival as a democratic republic may hinge on your son locating the derelict before Tsuchiya.”

  “Tyler is resourceful,” Noah said.

  “I also understand your eldest son, J.B., is off to settle a dispute with the Ounta-Kadiis. Have you heard from him?”

  “Not yet. It’s a long way to their capital.”

  “Win or lose, the Ounta-Kadiis will be satisfied if their legal system is respected,” the Chief Executive said. “You and the Senator must be proud to have kids who are good at what they do.”

  “Likewise Rodney. He trounced Tsuchiya’s goons in a fair fight.”

  “Well…” Rooney shrugged. “He’s always been a scrapper.”

  Noah smiled. “Roland, you’re a good man for a Mick from Chicago.”

  “And you’re an arrogant S.O.B. from Kansas City who wants to own the galaxy.”

  He nodded. “Guilty as charged.”

  “I’ve despised you for years,” Rooney said. “But Tsuchiya is a sociopath trying to recreate feudal Japan on a galactic scale and rule as Emperor. And now the bastard plans to strike targets on the homeworld?”

  “We’ve got to stop him,” Noah said.

  Rooney set his cup on the oak desk. “And that makes you my new best friend. Your fleet is now an arm of the Terran government.”

  Rooney offered his hand, and Noah took it.

  Xavier placed a palm atop their grasp and said, “Amigos, we have just formed a new alliance for the good of the Commonwealth.”

  “The Commonwealth,” Rooney and Noah echoed in unison.

  Eleven

  UNCLASS 31-07-3102X11-FWR

  WIDEST POSSIBLE DISTRIBUTION

  FLASH MSG:WARNING: STATE OF WAR EXISTS

  TO: ALL MATTHEWS-SOLORIO SHIPS, COLONIES, INDEP SUBSIDIARIES, STARBASES, & FACILITIES

  ALERT ORDER: BE ADVISED STATE OF WAR NOW EXISTS BETWEEN MATTHEWS INTERSTELLAR INDUSTRIES AND TSUCHIYA GALACTIC.

  ACTION: TAKE EXTREME PRECAUTIONS. CIVILIAN TARGETS AND SITES AT M-II LOCATIONS TO INCLUDE TERRAN HOMEWORLD & COLONIAL CITIES NOT IMMUNE TO ATTACK BY SAKURA HOUSE.

  ENCRYPTED TRAFFIC FOLLOWS.

  TNM III, CEO/nmc/

  KCMO HQ MII

  When Tyler read his father’s Alert Order, he recognized the wisdom of including Star Lawyers in the loop through an All Ships & Facilities bulletin rather than direct commlink. If anybody were tracking M-double-I message traffic, there was always the chance of pinpointing their location by quantum triangulation of the signal.

  He told Suzie about the bulletin and required all hands to read the message within four hours. Knowing J.B.’s penchant for organization, he was certain the personnel on the Beagle’s mission to the Ounta-Kadiis League were familiar with its contents by now.

  When Tyler checked in with the mother ship, Lieutenant Commander Jon Silas, captain of the Cargo Carrier Wollongong, reported he was already busy activating and positioning his four hundred attack drones along the outer hull. The super-CC would be a prime war target for Sakura House hunter-killer teams, but her drones could handle anything less than a full assault by a battlecarrier and she accelerated to max FTL rather quickly for the largest ship in the M-double-I inventory.

  At Morning Watch, the Wollongong departed the Huáng Expanse with Tyler’s beloved Patrick Henry stowed in her cargo hold like a mouse in a cathedral. Arrupt Kilub Riff required twelve hours at FTL in the Howling Tadpole to reach his starting point within the Expanse to search for the Jump Gate known as TF-Drifter.

  The Dengathi navigator recalculated the Gate’s direction of movement multiple times, based on a series of space-time locations where ships reported sighting the Drifter. At Kilub Riff’s request, Suzie reviewed the intensely complex navigational math and adjusted his four-dimensional algorithm six times before Arrupt was satisfied.

  She explained the problem to Tyler later that night as they lay in bed, legs still entwined after making love.

  “Imagine you are attempting to locate a single grain of sand on a planet like Terra, with so many beaches and deserts.”

  He kissed her cleavage. “Have I told you lately how much I missed you when you boarded Tsuchiya’s ship?”

  “You didn’t miss me. Missed licking my Strawberry Creams.”

  “Last time I noticed, they were attached.”

  “Snuggle later. I’m trying to educate my captain.”

  “Okay…lots of sand to sift.”

  “Not just a beach top search,” she said. “All the grains of sand in the world, surface to bedrock.”

  “That’s a helluva lot of sand.”

  “Now, let that grain of sand push off and move erratically. You don’t know where it is, but you know where it was at several points along the route.”

  “Find the pattern, project ahead from a fixed location, find the Gate.”

  “But don’t forget,” Suzie said, “your beach is moving constantly, too. Nothing in the Universe stands still, or resists the flow of time. We live in a four dimensional merry-go-round.”

  “You make it sound impossible,” Tyler said. “Yet, pirates find the Drifter Gate all the time.”

  “According to intel reports, the lead pilot finds it,” she said. “Other ships follow the merry-go-round horses in front of them.”

  Tyler pulled her close. “Well, so what? The longer it takes Arrupt to grab the brass ring, the more time we have to—”

  “Captain to the Bridge!” Lovey called over his datacom. “We’re approaching the Drifter Gate.”

  “Way to go, Phibby!” Tyler bounced from the bed and grabbed his clothes. “That damned Frog found the swimming hole.”

  “Grain of sand. You’ll ruin my lesson.” Suzie hopped to the floor, bare breasts bobbing. “This is where I’m crackers to be bio-energetic. Starkers to bridge station, booty to duty!”

  She disappeared into the computer net and reappeared on the bridge fully clothed in a dark green jumpsuit. Tyler argued for the color switch from Matthew Interstellar’s yellow flight suits for better optics if a pirate vessel asked for two-way visuals. M-double-I crew apparel was well known to sailors of the Free Enterprise League, who spent most of their working hours avoiding his mother’s attack vessels.

  Suzie relieved Arrupt at the nav-helm, moved Lieutenant Lovey Frost from the Executive Officer position to his vacated console, and slipped into the XO’s
seat beside the empty captain’s station. As planned, Arrupt waited behind the CO/XO positions ready to “assume command” if the Terran crew needed a Dengathi pirate to represent them before the Gatekeeper, who supposedly greeted all new arrivals on the other side of the Jump Gate.

  Tyler exited the lift to the Tadpole’s smallish bridge and slid into the captain’s chair. “Can we tag the Drifter, give it an M-double-I locator beacon?”

  “No take risk,” Arrupt said. “Gate very mean spirit. Smoosh like bug.”

  “How many times have you crossed this event horizon?” Tyler activated the command panel and mini-screen.

  “Maybe thirty-forty. No count.”

  “How far is the jump?”

  “Very mucho far, but never same. Gate drift, like no-root water plant. Frog come back, lily pad gone. Space-time bend. Gravimetric waves, little occlusion make big busted path. Jumbo-billion stars, gassy-dusty clouds, black holes, many, many radiations—allza play switchee-switchee with jump distance.”

  Suzie glanced at her fiancé. “He’s got it right, Ty. Too much interference to plot a consistent jump range from a mobile Gate.”

  “Okay. Take us in, Lovey. Slow to maneuvering thrusters. When the Gate’s locked at dead center, cut the push and let inertia glide us through.”

  TF-Drifter was unlike any other Gate that Tyler had visited. Both the ancient Gates and their modern, reverse-engineered Matthews Corp versions were massive black donuts, invisible against the starry canopy. M-double-I tagged their duplicated Jump Gates with red beacons, but even that flash of color was hard to locate in a black sky dusted with rubies, diamonds, and emeralds.

  The only way to spot an ancient gate was to approach close enough to notice when its thick ring eclipsed part of the starfield. Star-faring races quickly learned to “bookmark” each Gate’s space-time location, to include calculations for galactic drift. The alternative was to lose the Gate until stumbling upon it again. Not an economical way to operate.