Hero of the Republic: (The Parasite Initiative, Book 1)

by Britt Ringel

  Brewer typed again and said, “We have a new route, Madam Minister.”

  A new tunnel chain flared into existence. Starting from the Junction system, the fresh chain proceeded toward Commonwealth space, traveling through three previously unexplored star systems before diverting down into a Hollaran star system called Epona.

  The minister coldly regarded the new information. “I dislike secrets kept from me,” she hissed menacingly.

  “The information arrived this morning, Madam Minister,” Brewer answered quickly. “It was delivered by hand given its importance and I did not wish to send word of this to you, even through secure means.”

  Fane’s jade gaze followed the lines across the map. “How did you arrive upon this?”

  “From deep within Kite’s computer core,” Brewer said. “Encoded and deleted by Heskan himself but my technicians can find anything.”

  “More evidence of his betrayal,” Fane jeered quietly.

  “And the Commonwealth’s true color,” Brewer said in an attempt to deflect the incoming tirade. “This route was charted by a Hollaran task force seeking a back door for their own invasion. That task force encountered the Parasite race first, attempted to flee and eventually emerged at Kale, starting Kite’s remarkable journey and Heskan’s downward spiral.”

  “We have much work ahead of us, Sebastian. Many wrongs to right.”

  PART III

  Corporate Systems of the Lesser Magellanic Arm

  Chapter 31

  “It’s not right!” Aoife Covington screamed at her mother. The young woman’s brogue intensified with every word. “It’s not fair!”

  McKenna Covington looked skyward in utter frustration. “We’re not having this conversation again, Aoife. You’re going back to school this fall, so you can stop acting the maggot.”

  “Mother, Clayton’s serving!” Aoife insisted, crossing her arms defiantly.

  “And he’s nearly dead because of it,” McKenna countered angrily. The older woman closed her eyes and shuddered. “We almost lost him in the final battle against IaCom, Aoife, and you’re crazy if you think I‘ll let that happen to you.”

  “Clayton risked his life for AmyraCorp, Mum, for Seshafi. Dad said that every Seshafian has to do their part in protecting the corporation.” Aoife stepped closer. “Was he only talking ‘bout the lower classes? Is it fine for them to risk their lives for the corporation but when it comes to the nobles, we should just reap the rewards of their sacrifice?” She uncrossed her arms and tapped her chest. “Mum, I have to do this. I owe it to Seshafi and her people, our people, to give as much loyalty and devotion as they’ve given.”

  “I won’t see you lying half-dead in a hospital bed, Aoife,” McKenna swore as her eyes brimmed with tears. Her only son, Clayton Covington, had intrepidly captained a brig in the final skirmish between Seshafi and Sade. Sade’s IaCom had pursued its hostile takeover of AmyraCorp for months. Seshafi had emerged victorious but both sides had paid a heavy price in one of the bloodiest conflicts in recent corporate system history. As with all corporate hostile takeover attempts, it had been settled in accordance with tradition and honor through naval engagement. The means of AmyraCorp’s victory had been anything but traditional however.

  “So everything Dad has spoken about the last six months has been rubbish and we should just let others risk their lives while we abnegate our responsibilities?”

  A scholarly voice from behind her filled the room. “That’s an impressive word, Aoife. I guess tuition hasn’t been such a waste after all.”

  Aoife looked adoringly at her father as he slowly entered the room with the aid of his cane. “Daddy!” the young woman cried out as she ran over to embrace the elderly man. “You’re home!”

  “How is Clayton doing?” McKenna asked immediately.

  Joshua Covington, CEO of AmyraCorp and patriarch of Seshafi, hugged his only daughter tightly before allowing himself to relax the embrace. He began the torturous process of walking across the large foyer toward his wife. “He’s doing better but the doctors are unsure whether a lung graft is the answer. Clayton still can’t speak but he can type so we had a fruitful conversation.”

  “Did he agree to leave the Navy?” McKenna insisted.

  Joshua’s shoulders dipped at the question but he nodded fitfully. “I believe I’ve convinced him that he can best serve Seshafi’s interests outside of the military. Eventually, there comes a time to start preparing for life inside the corporation. He’s unhappy but the boy is also a realist.” He angled his head toward his daughter. “If only my other child possessed his sensibilities.”

  “I want to fight,” Aoife said simply.

  Joshua smiled lovingly while raising an eyebrow. “You’d be more persuasive if you said you wanted to serve, darling. There’s merit to that argument.”

  “Joshua,” McKenna scolded her husband.

  The greying, balding man finally reached his sanctuary and rotated slowly around his cane. With mammoth exertion, he lowered himself into the soft confines of the well-worn club chair. “She has a point, McKenna. I’m not thrilled with the notion of Aoife enlisting but every citizen must do her part. Seshafi’s newest admiral is proof of that. If AmyraCorp would ask so much from Garrett Heskan and his Brevic renegades, then shouldn’t we natives be willing to do our duty?”

  “Joshua.” This time, McKenna was pleading.

  “Daddy!” Aoife ran again to her father to squeeze his hand. “I knew you’d understand.”

  Joshua looked sternly at his daughter. “The Navy won’t have you, Aoife. Your little stunt last autumn will see to that.”

  The Port Crown authority had initially charged Aoife Covington with second degree arson. Her family name and lawyers had reduced it to a lesser charge and her misdeeds would be sealed once she reached eighteen.

  Crestfallen, she implored her father, “You know Admiral Heskan. He works for you. You’re the one who promoted him. If you talked with him….”

  Joshua raised his hand authoritatively. “The common citizen doesn’t have that luxury, Aoife. If you intend to serve Seshafi, then you’ll do it on your own merits, without the influence of your father.” He looked across the room to his wife. “Or, you can finish school and enter university where you’ll garner a much greater amount of influence for yourself.”

  “I’m not going back to that school,” Aoife insisted.

  “But if the military won’t have you,” McKenna stated with a growing confidence.

  “If we sign our consent, the marines will take her.”

  “Joshua!” The tone had become scolding again.

  He smiled ruefully at his wife. “I’m sorry, love, but truth be told, I think maybe both Seshafi and Aoife will profit. The protection of AmyraCorp is every citizen’s duty and our daughter will only benefit from the discipline that will be instilled into her… if she has what it takes.”

  “I can do the marines,” Aoife asserted. Her green eyes flashed with a determination Joshua had rarely seen but always knew existed.

  * * *

  “No more than two milligrams every other day,” Adira Fane instructed. She looked pointedly across her desk at the attractive woman seated opposite her. “You’ll only carry enough for one week’s application at any time, well below any traceable amount, Angela. You’ll receive weekly resupply from a courier.”

  The young brunette looked down at the tiny square of paper. A nearly microscopic amount of chemical laced each of its corners. “How am I expected to apply it?”

  “One of Councilman Peng’s maids suffered a serious aircar accident last week. She’s no longer with his cleaning service and you’ve been assigned her position,” Fane explained. “Your job is to clean the lavatories of his mansion, including his personal bathroom. The chemical is quite persistent. Simply wipe a corner along the handle of the councilman’s hairbrush on alternating days.”

  “Let’s hope the councilman doesn’t go bald,” the young woman quipped, quickly regretting it.


  Fane’s expression was stone. “We have researched this man’s genealogy and have determined that is unlikely.” A dark eyebrow rose slightly. “I’d recommend you wear gloves. Limited exposure is harmless but it builds up over time with truly frightening consequences.”

  The intelligence agent inserted the square paper back into its protective sleeve and tucked it into a pocket. When finished she looked toward the Minister of Intelligence, careful to not look directly at her. “Is there anything else, Madam Minister?”

  Fane swayed slightly in silent examination. Probing eyes consumed the operative before her. “Do not underestimate the importance of this assignment, Agent Long. A great machine depends on how well you turn your tiny gear.” Fane drew her next breath slowly while composing her thoughts. “This is no menial task. I understand, more than you know, the effort required to ascend to your current station and I would not allocate one of my best deep cover agents to an inconsequential mission.”

  “Of course not, Madam Minister!” Long blurted quickly. “If I’ve given you any reason to doubt my enthusiasm then please accept my apologies. I’m happy to serve.”

  “I know you are,” Fane assured. “That’s why you’ve been entrusted to this vital, eight-year mission. If I believed there was any chance of failure on your part, I would use a different agent.”

  “I’m honored, ma’am,” Long affirmed. “The length of this assignment is a bit daunting but the privilege of being recruited by the Minister of Intelligence herself makes any assignment well worth the effort. I’m very motivated and I promise I won’t fail.”

  “Then you are dismissed, Angela. Supervisor Cline is your handler; he’ll brief you with the details and will be my liaison. We will not speak until after your assignment has reached its conclusion. At that time, we will discuss your future and whether you wish to remain in the field or seek advancement in a more supervisory capacity.”

  “Thank you, Madam Minister.” Long rose from her chair, took a final, furtive glance at the minister and escaped the office.

  When the door had closed, Fane pressed gently on her datapad. “Send in Sebastian.”

  Seconds later, the minister’s door reopened to reveal Sebastian Brewer. He waited until the door fully closed before walking across the large, dimly lit office toward his superior’s desk. He placed five wafer-thin, nearly transparent sheets before Fane. The e-paper held the photographs of five blonde women, ostensibly in their teens. Below each portrait was an extensive background on the subject. In the upper corner was a circuit that rendered the document inert when its protective covering was broken.

  “After an extensive search, these are the best choices,” Brewer said while organizing the five options on her desk.

  “Michael Dunn’s son apparently prefers blondes,” Fane noted humorlessly. Critical eyes swept over each sheet. “They each have acceptable credentials although I would prefer our candidate to have as much experience as possible.”

  Brewer nodded reluctantly. “As would I but our agent’s experience is moot if she can’t pass for a teenager. She’s going to have to spend two years in a secondary school. It’s a balancing act, as always.”

  Fane pressed the corners of three sheets, sending their data into the ether. “Your recommendation between these two?” she asked, pointing at the remaining portraits.

  Brewer gestured to the paper furthest to his right. “Cassidy Ryan, highly intelligent, graduated from our Charm School and unquestionably loyal. She also best fits the physical requirements without being… well, obvious. She was also studying pharmacology before she was recruited. That will be helpful when they are in college.”

  “Insert her immediately,” Fane ordered. “Arrange their first meeting to happen outside of school.”

  “The White Knight?” he asked. “It will make him immediately protective of her.”

  Fane inhaled slowly. “Yes, but nothing too dramatic or out of character. Dunn is no fool and will see Ryan coming a kilometer away if you’re clumsy. Let the boy approach her once they are in school.”

  “Understood,” Brewer acknowledged and collected the spent e-papers. After placing them inside his coat pocket, he sought the comfort of a luxurious chair.

  “On to larger matters,” Fane said. “What of your think tank?”

  “Its preliminary study of Parasite encounter logs, technologies and combat utility is nearly complete,” Brewer informed. “I’m on your calendar in two months, when I will lay out the best paths forward for you to choose. We are rapidly running out of funding though, Madam Minister. I’m burning through millions a week on this study and it’s only going to get worse.”

  “It’s not just the financials, Sebastian,” Fane noted. “You’re going to need secrecy as well. You’ll need dozens of groups working on tiny parts of the project so that no single group can put the pieces together. You’ll need the best scientific minds to develop the needed technologies and you’ll need the best military thinkers to create a strategy to utilize those technologies. This all boils down to NEED, Sebastian.” Fane studied an inlaid computer screen on her desk. After a moment’s pause, she said, “I can divert some funds from Project Crystal. There’s a moderate reserve attached to it and the project’s potential has waned.”

  “This much money being diverted is going to be noticed, Madam Minister, and even these credit amounts are nothing compared to what we will eventually need for ship production costs. There’s nothing like this in the Bureau of Internal Security’s budget, or even the entire Ministry of Intelligence. Where will you get the long-term funding required?” Brewer asked.

  “Where all Republic funding derives,” Fane stated plainly. “From the General Council. If I can control the representatives from the Republic’s five district systems, I can control the Council. I own Lysithea and will own Bree once Matthews is elected to the Presidency in five years.” She nodded at the bio of Cassidy Ryan. “Dunn will do anything to protect his son. Leave the remaining two council members to me.”

  Brewer sat quietly for several moments. After a lengthy internal debate, he stated, “Even if we’re able to alter the balance of alliances within the General Council, we still can’t openly explain why we want a budget needed to construct an entire fleet of warships and we certainly can’t explain that we intend to unleash the Parasites against the Commonwealth.”

  Fane slowly released her breath in a soft hiss. “Let me tell you about Project Pied-Piper.”

  Chapter 32

  “Faith, I’ll need the economic development synopsis before I meet with the subcouncil’s finance committee tomorrow.”

  Undersecretary Faith Lawson raised a hand to a spot on her computer screen to mark her place before reluctantly tearing her eyes away. “Yes, Minister Sandoval. It’ll be completed as soon as I’m finished with this review.”

  “Very well,” answered the Minister of Finance in his usual, gruff voice.

  Lawson watched the minister retreat down the hallway. He was late for his appointment and already far too unhappy for this early in the morning. The minister’s foul moods were becoming more and more common. The resolution of the Brevic-Hollaran War had not only wiped out vast portions of the Republic’s expensive naval fleet but also resulted in the loss of an economically vital sector of space. While the other Republic ministries had complained about the New Roma colonies before the war, the economic power inside that now lost sector was undisputed.

  Lawson groaned inwardly as she tallied just how much Republic coffers had lost when star systems such as New Milan and Kore had been taken as spoils of war. They were vital trade links to the Federation. Hell, we were even starting to make subtle inroads with Humex in the Syntyche corporate system.

  She pushed the heart-breaking thoughts aside and resumed her work. As an Undersecretary of Finance, she was charged with the quarterly reconciliations of the Republic’s domestic projects. The laborious task would put most people in her position fast asleep but it was one of the few facets of her
job that she truly enjoyed. Lawson was not an office politicker and she held no illusions that, despite her pending promotion to Assistant Secretary next month, she would rise to any position of true authority. Yet, she was content to fill a necessary, if boring, job that safeguarded the people’s money.

  It’s even more important now, Lawson told herself as she recalculated the numbers for Naiad’s and Psamathe’s annual budgets for space navigation expenditures. The Commonwealth just took roughly ten percent of our GNP from us. She frowned at the screen. Did I accidentally add an extra zero? Her stomach plummeted at the thought. This is how people lose their jobs. It’s always the simplest error that trips you up and this job is just a decimal place away from throwing you out of the ministry.

  Lawson saved the file under a new name, “JustFireMeNow,” before opening the original file to begin comparing all of the thousands of entries, one by one.

  * * *

  Joshua Covington did not stand when Seshafi’s newest marines marched past the attending crowd at the Port Crown parade grounds. His will to rise could no longer overcome his physical ability and he remained seated in his mobility assist chair. The impeccably ordered formation moved with a precision known only to marines and he watched with a dichotomy of emotions, intense pride in his graduating daughter and intense shame in not being able to honor her with the simple act of standing.

  Once the graduation ceremony was over and the marines were dismissed, Covington’s only daughter ran to her family with delight. After issuing a flawless salute to her brother—it would be the last time she saw him in a naval uniform—she stepped close for a round of familial hugs. Perhaps, Covington thought to himself, just perhaps my unruly daughter has found herself. Even though she doesn’t like the location of her first assignment, she accepted it docilely. No, that’s not fair to her. Not docile but stoic. When Aoife finished embracing her mother, she quickly lowered herself and wrapped her arms tightly around her father.