The Ripple in Space-Time: Free City Book 1 (The Free City Series)

by S F Chapman

  Dimitri Verhovnyi slowly rose from the desk chair.

  Mixion bowed to the pompous tyrant.

  “I must say,” the Warlord began sourly, “that I’m rather disappointed that my first encounter with a representative of Free City only warranted a mere underling in the diplomatic corp.”

  “The Prime Minister sends his personal apologies, Oh Supreme Exalted Ruler.”

  A conceited little grin crossed Dimitri’s face.

  “The Free City government is of course most eager to establish a nonaggression pact with the unquestioned Master of All Humanity,” Mixion nodded humbly. “Because the High Ambassador and his diplomatic entourage is still many weeks away, I was hastily sent from a minor posting in the Jupiter Colonies to convey the Prime Minster’s most urgent aspirations for peace.”

  The Warlord appraised her worthiness for several seconds. “Please come in.” Dimitri stared with an unnerving intensity at the young woman, “I don’t recall ever laying eyes on such an unusually beautiful black woman.”

  “Why thank you!” Mixion placed her hand flirtatiously on Dimitri’s forearm, “I’ve rarely received such a flattering compliment, and certainly never from such a high source.” She slid her palm innocently back and forth over his skin, spreading the first of what she hoped would be at least three doses of the pathogen onto the man.

  Dimitri was obviously aroused by the sensual trifling.

  Mixion quickly shifted back to her diplomatic ruse; if need be to accomplish her deadly goal, she would return to the contrived seduction of the vile man. “I must apologize in advance, my Exalted Ruler; due to the urgent nature of this preliminary meeting and the complex gravitational difficulties imposed by Saturn, I will only be able to converse with you for a very short time before departing.”

  The Warlord frowned at the forewarning.

  “To expedite the Prime Minister’s goal,” Mixion continued, “of a mutually beneficial agreement, I would like to ask you what terms shall the High Ambassador propose to you in the upcoming meeting?”

  The Warlord scowled at the sudden deflection away from his sexual interest in the woman. “I shall immediately require half interest in the Bank of Free City and payment of one half of all the tax proceeds collected by the municipal government. There of course will be many other requirements.”

  “I suspect that the Prime Minister will balk at that arrangement,” she warned.

  The man sighed obstinately, “I’m afraid the matter is not negotiable. After all, I have many weapons currently targeting the city that could rain down on the fools should they resist my demands.”

  Mixion strolled pensively around the chamber, apparently considering the difficult issue. “I understand,” she finally said, “I shall apprise the Ambassador of your pressing wishes.”

  Dimitri leered at the petite woman.

  She studied him carefully for a second opportunity to infect the repulsive man; frustratingly, none seemed obvious.

  A wickedly manipulative thought crossed her mind. She quickly weighed the various possible outcomes of the ploy and reluctantly concluded that despite her personal revulsion, she should proceed.

  With her arms crossed in mock dismay, Mixion huffed, “I’m only twenty-five and I don’t want to be stranded in the uneventful backwaters of the Jupiter Colonies for much longer.” Her shoulders drooped. “I would dearly love a more prestigious assignment.”

  “My grand scheme for the future,” the Warlord said with a twinkle of lechery in his eyes, “will be to have a full time staff of consulars from the fiefdoms, and of course Free City, here on Titan to attend to my decrees.”

  Mixion nodded with feigned interest; the vain man had greedily taken the bait that she had dangled before him.

  She tipped her head playfully, “Perhaps you could suggest that the High Ambassador appoint me to a permanent position as Consular for Free City?”

  “Perhaps.”

  Mixion slipped her hand into his as an apparent effort to seal the deal.

  He squeezed her sweaty palm, “I will surely require very intimate consultations with you if I decide that you are worthy of that distinguished post.”

  “Of course,” she withdrew her hand with a satisfied grin. The second dose of the toxin had been delivered to the victim.

  Mixion glanced out of the workroom window at the dusky red landscape of the fridge moon, “Sadly, as I mentioned earlier, I must leave Titan now and pilot my orbiting spacecraft back to a rendezvous with the High Ambassador’s vessel.”

  Dimitri frowned at the prospect of losing her.

  She gently stroked his cheek in mock sympathy, “I will see you again in several weeks when I accompany the diplomatic mission during the upcoming official meeting.” The third portion of poison had been applied.

  He cooed at the implied future liaison, “I look forward to it.”

  Mixion smiled disingenuously at the Warlord when she left him alone in the workroom; no matter what else happened to her in the ensuring minutes as she made her way back to the comparative safety of the orbiting ship, she had successfully carried out her part of the risky assassination effort.

  31. News Item: Verhovnyi culprit in Lab blast

  Dateline: 25th of August, 2445; Free City, Earth

  Anonymous sources in the Prime Minister’s Office confirmed today that, as has been long suspected by most in Free City, Warlord Dimitri Verhovnyi of the Outer Reaches was indeed responsible for the destruction of the Ultra Energy Lab sixteen weeks ago.

  The detested villain occupying the Titan Palace apparently engaged at least one pack of rapacious raiders to seize valuable and dangerous antimatter from the facility below the Sea of Crisis. It is believed that as a final act of vandalism, the thugs detonated the remaining stores of antimatter dooming the scientific institution and the scores of innocents who happened to be there.

  Many in the fair city suspect that Verhovnyi’s henchmen utilized the looted explosives to fabricate the warhead that obliterated Arusha.

  Reporters have been unable to officially confirm the emerging details about the twin disasters: Both Chief Inspector Helga Bennet of the Inquisitor's Office and Principal Justice Tzai Chong of the High Court refused to comment on the ongoing investigations.

  With the current miserable state of affairs imposed upon us all by the self-proclaimed “Ruler of All Humanity,” it seems unlikely that Dimitri Verhovnyi will ever be held accountable for the destruction of the Ultra Energy Laboratory and the murder of the 287 souls at the facility.

  Sadly, most citizens of our fine city also doubt that the nine million residents of Arusha who perished recently on the Maasai Steppes at the hands of the tyrant will ever be avenged.

  32. The long sought objectives “This is the route that your sugar pie Benny took?” Lev stared accusingly at Keira as she piloted the Seiran slowly though the forsaken region of the interminable asteroid field.

  The woman scowled at him, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Well, you were hanging all over him in the bar. How do we know that he wasn’t just toying with you?”

  “He’s only fifteen, you idiot!” she snarled. “I’m nearly old enough to be his mom.”

  Keira adjusted the craft’s trajectory to avoid a mountain-sized boulder ahead. “That’s how leads are developed.”

  Lev hastily retreated from his earlier disapproving tone. “Sorry.”

  She glanced at him, “Were you jealous of Benny?”

  “I guess I was.”

  Keira smiled smugly at the revelation; their rocky romance had come full circle. “You know that I felt the same way when we went dancing and you dragged Desiree over to our table.”

  The woman glared at her heedless copilot, “You two were draped all over each other like dirty sheets on an unmade bed.”

  “Yeah; I messed up that night. I should have apologized sooner. Desiree is eccentric and enthralling,” Lev rubbed his temple in dismay, “but I always seem to get into way too much trouble
when I’m around her.”

  He shook his head remorsefully, “She’s never been right for me.”

  Keira dodged around another obstacle. “Who is right for you?”

  “You are.”

  After the ship had cleared the looming crag, she studied him for several seconds to appraise his sincerity.

  He had a curious look of hope and remorse, she finally decided. “No more ignoring me when some fetching young thing walks by?”

  “I’ll try my best.”

  “And I’ll remind you,” Keira quipped in victory.

  • • •

  While his young crewmates slumbered together again in the berth, apparently putting an end to the weeks of sullen moodiness between them, Ryo inched the Seiran along through the floating rubble.

  Keira was a much better pilot than he would ever be, the old Investigator had realized long ago, but the search had to continue when the woman required rest or other more sensual diversions.

  In the endless tedium of grays and blacks that was the Asteroid Belt, an unusual gleamer caught his eye. Ryo concentrated on the distant anomaly. After several seconds of squinting to no avail, he was nearly ready to give up on the shiny phantasm.

  There!

  Far off in the chaotic jumble of jostling worldlets, a tiny speck blinked at him with a silvery flash.

  Ryo checked the wide scan radar. Nearly fifty kilometers away a colossal spacecraft sat stranded amongst the stony behemoths.

  He quickly shutdown the radar and engaged the anti-detection system.

  “LEV! KEIRA! I’ve found something!”

  The drowsy duo rattled clumsily down the passageway.

  Keira straightened her ruffled nightshirt and Lev stared dumbly at the control panel.

  Ryo searched for the elusive vessel with the ancient telescope, “I see it! I’m sure it’s the Xenon Lightning.”

  “Do you see the Butin Belle?” Lev asked hopefully.

  “No; but I’m not surprised, the Belle is tiny compared to the tanker.”

  He handed the spyglass to the young man.

  “I’ll be right back,” Keira frowned, “I’m going to check on something.” She left the men in the cockpit and floated back to the gravitational survey compartment.

  Lev set the old instrument aside, “All I could see was the Lightning.”

  “The weird antimatter doesn’t seem to be there!” Keira called to the men.

  “I don’t think that the Lightning is moving enough for the scanner to detect the stuff,” Lev said with a hint of doubt.

  The woman returned to the cockpit.

  “I suspect it will take days of delicate stalking,” Ryo concluded as he watched for the periodic glint of the distant ship, “but let’s see if we can creep up on that beast undetected.”

  • • •

  It had indeed taken days, as the old Investigator had predicted, for the Seiran to sneak up on the hijacked tanker.

  The trio had spent hours shortly after the discovery of the Lightning painstakingly plotting an elaborate and stealthy course to intercept the marooned vessel. Lev had suggested a zigzag route that took advantage of the cover offered by the many asteroids that littered the gulf between the ships. Keira recommended that the Seiran's maneuvering engines should only be engaged when the craft was shielded behind the floating debris. The interceptor would then slowly drift to the next rock a few kilometers away and begin the drawn out process again.

  Ryo had warned his crewmates to be ready for a quick chase should the pirates detect the creeping craft.

  Now the huge Xenon Lightning loomed about a kilometer ahead.

  “I’m still not picking up anything on the gravitational scanner,” Lev reported. “Well, other than the tanker and the usual clatter of the surrounding rubble.”

  As the Seiran glided towards the derelict tanker, Ryo and Keira studied the monster from the darkened cockpit. With the exception of a few feeble marker lights, the vessel showed no signs of life.

  Keira slowly shook her head, “Where is the Butin Belle?”

  • • •

  “Why did we abandon my friends?” Jana snapped at Bosco when he finally opened the hatch to the chamber.

  For nearly a day she’d been locked away again in the tiny cell onboard the Butin Belle. To her great dread, Jana had watched the Lightning slowly recede though the porthole. Although she was worried about her slave companions still onboard the tanker, Jana was especially anxious to know about the status of the three booby-trapped weapons that they had constructed for their captors.

  The big First Mate laughed, “Well, it’s nice to see you too, sweetheart.” He motioned towards the door.

  She took a deep breath and relaxed; Jana was most certainly still a prisoner, if she hoped to discover anything about the abrupt change she would need to seem cooperative.

  “Sorry Boz, I’m really hungry.” Jana followed him down the corridor.

  He glanced back at her; “I’ll get you some chow in a few hours.”

  “Thanks.” She tugged on his sleeve, “Can I check over the devices? I’d like to make sure that the containment bubbles haven’t degraded.”

  The gruff marauder considered her request for several seconds, “Well, since I’d prefer not to be blown halfway to hell by a faulty bomb, I guess we could take a few minutes to examine the little beasties.”

  Jana nodded, “It would be a good idea.”

  They diverted into a large side compartment. In the center of the room, clamped firmly into launching fixtures, sat the three small weapons.

  The pirate pointed to the munitions, “Knock yourself out, Doc.”

  Jana pried open the first device, casually maneuvering around to block Boz’s view of the object. With a smooth and well-practiced motion, she secretly reset the doomsday timer and resealed the cover, “This one looks OK. Why did we leave the Lightning?”

  He tepidly watched her float to the second sphere, “Our employer, who still owes us a great deal of money, gave up the ghost a few days ago.”

  She nonchalantly restarted the second timer, “Really? That’s sad.”

  “He was a friggin’ weasel and would have tried to cheat us out of our due.”

  Jana stopped at the third bomb and studied the man, “What’s to become of this enterprise that you and the Captain have been engaged in for so long?”

  “We’re tending to that right now,” Boz smiled ominously. “You and the Lightning will eventually be ransomed. The men will be sold off for slave work in a few months to a mine somewhere.”

  “I suspect my son would be interested in getting me back alive.” She swiveled around and reset the third device, “What about these weapons?”

  “The three little gems will be used to blackmail the simpletons on Earth.”

  33. News item: Death of the despot?

  Dateline: 1st of September, 2445; Free City University, Free City, Earth

  “Amazing, if true!” crowed one ecstatic revealer during the wild impromptu celebration late last night near the War Atrocities Monument in Roscommon Park.

  Several hundred students mainly from the University’s Department of Advanced Applied Molecular Biology gathered at the normally somber monument around midnight when sketchy tidbits regarding the death of Dimitri Verhovnyi first materialized. Although no source, reliable or otherwise, could be sniffed out to verify what many believe is merely wishful thinking, the rumors have persisted.

  University officials remain perplexed by what many students now claim is true. Several instructors in the School of Psychology attribute the hearsay to Enlightenment Crusade crackpots.

  The prevailing buzz involves the dictator falling ill shortly after an unexpected visitor claiming to be an envoy from our fair city departed from the Titan Palace. Accounts remain fuzzy, but many jubilant students maintain that after Verhovnyi became comatose, he was bludgeoned to death by palace slaves who then hung their despised master alongside his long-dead father on the surface of the icy moon.
>
  This morning the Prime Minister’s Office dismissed the speculation as ludicrous, pointedly noted that the city’s official diplomatic delegation is in route to Titan and is still more than sixty days away from the Warlord’s palace.

  34. Advanced Mission Completed “She’s a lovely child,” Mixion commented to the men.

  It had taken nearly a week of intermittent scrubbing to finally remove the many layers of dirt that had begrimed the girl; recently outfitted in Mixion’s spare flight suit, Dilma finally resembled a conventional eleven-year-old.

  The former slave had taken to tidying up the crowded spacecraft; perhaps as a familiar diversion during the interminable return to Earth.

  Jasper peered over the interface display and studied the purposeful youngster as she retrieved wayward objects floating about the cabin, “I imagine that someday she’ll make an excellent espionage agent.”

  The girl smiled sweetly to the doting adults.

  Zmuda chuckled at the suggestion, “She certainly can act the part and her abilities to nab unattended valuables is already legendary.”

  In the many days since they had departed from the Titan Palace, the former parlormaid had managed to accumulate a huge and very carefully hidden trove of unguarded treasures. Whenever a toothbrush or control knob went missing, the adults would spend hours playfully coaxing their beloved ragamuffin into returning the pilfered item.

  “What’s going to become of her when we return to Free City?” the woman asked.

  Zmuda brooded over the nettlesome matter. “I don’t know.”

  • • •

  The Lieutenant studied the classified message from Earth with interest.

  Back in Free City, his associates in the CRAMP were already developing an intricate new effort to destabilize the Fiefdom of IndoPacifica. The elderly and enfeebled Warlord of the scattered realm would certainly be a much easier target than Dimitri Verhovnyi.

  The CRAMP had organized a robust subversive movement in New Rome since the city had become the de facto capital of EurAfrica following the destruction of Arusha and the death of Daniel Kufuzu. In progressively larger and louder demonstrations around the city, the citizens were making it clear that they would not tolerate a return to the corrupt feudal system of the past.