“I’m afraid we can’t comment on the details of an ongoing investigation, Ms. Masterson,” said Nuland’s partner, Special Agent Diana Meltzer. “But, don’t you watch holovision?”
Nuland and Meltzer were genuinely puzzled that Vice Admiral Masterson’s mother seemed unaware that her son was missing, especially after all of the recent media attention given to the story.
“No, I don’t own one. Holovision is a drug the government uses to besot ignorant minds to keep the populace quiescent and pliable.”
“When did you last hear from your son, Ms. Masterson?” asked Nuland.
“I believe it was two standard years ago… just before Christmas, as I remember.”
“That would be Christmas of 3865, then?” asked Meltzer, for clarification.
“Let’s see, 67 minus 2… that would still be 65, yes. I’m sure that your 2nd grade arithmetic teacher would be quite proud that you’ve managed to retain so much of your education, Agent Meltzer.”
Meltzer’s ears burned at the woman’s belittling remark. Nuland jumped in to defuse the tension of the awkward situation and asked, “How exactly did your son go about contacting you, two years ago, Ms. Masterson? Are you absolutely sure that communication was truly from him?”
“I would certainly think so. He just showed up at my front door from out of the blue, and rang the doorbell.”
“Admiral Masterson was actually here, in person?” blurted a startled Diana Meltzer. Nuland shot his partner an annoyed look at her rookie mistake of revealing information to a potential witness.
“Admiral Masterson?” the woman snorted, in obvious amusement. “Hardly... it was my shiftless son who dropped in unexpectedly two years ago.”
“Are you telling me that Vice Admiral John Masterson is not your son?” asked Nuland.
“Some investigators you two are!” Ms. Masterson laughed. “If my son was a vice admiral, don’t you think I’d know it? Besides, if any son of mine were to associate himself with the military-industrial complex, I’d disown him. My John Masterson knows better than that!”
“Do you have any idea where your son might be right now, Ms. Masterson?” asked Meltzer.
“None. He’s always been a bit of a gypsy. He could be almost anywhere in the Alliance. I have absolutely no idea when, or where, he’s going to turn up next.”
“Interplanetary travel isn’t cheap. Can you tell us how your son makes his living?” asked Nuland.
“I never asked, and he never said. He’s always seemed to survive somehow,” said Ms. Masterson. “He never demonstrated any particular talent, so I sometimes wondered if at some point, he hadn’t ended up on his knees, giving blowjobs to rich perverts.”
* * * *
“Strange woman,” said ABI Special Agent Diana Meltzer. “You’d almost think she’d actually prefer the idea of her son working as a male prostitute, rather than doing anything associated with the military for a living.”
“I don’t know how much help that picture she gave us of her son is going to be,” said Nuland. “Damned odd that she didn’t have any pictures of him more recent than age 12.”
“Almost like she stopped considering him her son, when he entered puberty,” replied Meltzer. “You think there was something about his approaching sexual maturity, that she found threatening?”
“No telling. But now we aren’t even sure if her son is the right John Masterson,” responded Nuland.
“Well, this is where the trail that Admiral Masterson’s last ‘next of kin’ address on Indinara, that we found listed in his personnel jacket, led us.”
“If it is the same guy, at least we might have finally found a possible motive for his wanting to disappear.”
“Yeah? What’s that?” asked Meltzer.
“If that bitch was my mother, I’d want to disappear too!”
* * * *
Chapter-14
One is never sure, watching two cats washing each other, whether it’s affection, the taste, or a trial run for the jugular. -- Helen Thomson
The Raknii Imperial Planet of Raku
November, 3867
The Raknii finally had a new type of fleet... new warships and weapons systems designed and developed from information learned after Tzal’s initial encounter with humans at Minnos cycles earlier, were gathered at Raku by Xior’s order. Many ships of the old design had undergone a major weapons upgrade, now boasting three single 6-gigawatt energy weapons turrets, replacing their three twin, 3-gigawatt turrets from before. Larger reactors couldn’t be retrofitted into the old hulls, so this compromise allowed for the same amount of wattage to be thrown from fewer, but more powerful weapons, having correspondingly greater range. They were tentatively calling these converted older ships destroyers, as that was the closest designation comparable to human ships that they knew of.
This new fleet wasn’t impressive in overall numbers, when compared to how many ships of the old design still existed, but those had proven ineffectual against the human’s armored warships. Nor were they on nearly the same technological levels as the alien’s weapons and armor demonstrated recently. But Rak manufactories had responded with remarkable vigor and produced significant numbers, when compared to those the aliens had yet shown. After completion of intensive crew training and equipment testing, these new assets had been brought to the Raknii home world of Raku and organized into combat units while awaiting specific field assignments, according to the perceived need.
On top of everything else, Blug was being a pain under the tail again... causing the supreme-master difficulties that a warrior in his delicate health didn’t need. Blug used his indignation at having those incompetents that he’d sent to the Imperial fleet expelled, as an excuse to stop sending ships of any kind or quality to support the war against the humans, and thus, a notable disparity was developing in the carefully balanced strength ratios normally maintained between regions. The Empire simply could not afford for Blug’s ego to get out of paw and distract other regions away from focusing all of their energies towards defense of their systems against the inexorable human advance.
Of all the regions, Blug’s was one of the least directly threatened by the human onslaught, yet messages arrived almost daily from Region-4. Blug was inexplicably whining the loudest, demanding that much of these precious new fleet assets be assigned to protect his region and personal hide from the aliens he feared would be crawling out from under his sleeping pad at any moment. Now it appeared to Xior that the best thing he could do with those new assets was to grant Blug’s illogical demands for many of these new assets — not to protect him from aliens, but to protect his neighbors from him.
So Xior summoned Ultimate-FleetMaster Tzal, and issued his orders to him personally, to maximize the strength of the hypnotic compulsion to obey those orders, regardless of whatever demands that Blug might seek to impose on him. For the first time in history, Imperial fleet units would not be subject to the orders of the local region-master, but would continue to operate independently, executing orders originating with the supreme-master himself. Tzal commanded what was again the most powerful fleet in Raknii military history, not in numbers this time, but in sheer firepower. At Xior’s specific command, Tzal took this fleet of new ships and departed for the Region-4 capital at Slithin.
Supreme-Master Xior was losing his battle against the wasting disease that was slowly killing him. He continued losing weight, having little appetite, and regurgitating most of what little food he did manage to get down. Between what the radiation treatments were doing to his body, simple malnutrition and lack of sleep from chronic pain, Xior was in an almost constant state of almost total exhaustion. That pain made it difficult for him to think clearly and the painkillers prescribed by his physicians often made it even harder. Xior was dying and there was nothing that his physicians could do, or that Dol seemed willing to do, to stop it. It was almost time for Xior to summon his heir to Raku. Not quite yet, but almost.
* * * *
The All
iance Planetoid of Discol, City of Waston
November, 3867
It galled ABI Director Fredrick J. Danforth to yet again be forced to inform the president that there had been still been no break in their search for what had happened to her military attaché, Vice Admiral John “Bat” Masterson. The trail had been two years cold by the time those newshounds first discovered that the initial report had been bogus, as had all of the quarterly updates on his alleged injuries and anyone had realized that anything was amiss.
Archival records showed that a ticket to Indinalis aboard a TransWorld Spacelines flight, had indeed been bought in Masterson’s name at the beginning of his personal leave, and that a body had definitely traveled in that seat on that flight. Someone had flown from Waston to Indinalis aboard that flight, but had it actually been Masterson?
Whoever it was that had filed that report and those follow-ups had left no discernable computer trail that Danforth’s ABI specialists had been able to track. That smacked of computer expertise at a governmental level. Masterson was himself a bona-fide computer expert and a former counter-intelligence analyst, so was it possible that Masterson might have staged his disappearance himself? He certainly had the expertise, but what possible motive?
After a court-ordered search warrant was issued, it was discovered that the apartment listed as Masterson’s residence in his Fleet records, and for which the monthly rent was being automatically withdrawn from Masterson’s bank account, was empty. Not a single item of furniture or personal item of any kind was found there. Another curious thing — other than the automatic withdrawals set up to pay his monthly bills like rent, utilities, etc., Vice Admiral Masterson’s bank account hadn’t been touched since those TransWorld Spacelines tickets to Indinara had been purchased back in June of 3865. Monthly deposits of his Fleet paycheck continued going in, but not single withdrawal had been made. His debit card hadn’t been used for a single withdrawal, so if he hadn’t been abducted, how was he living? Or, a more ominous possibility... was he still living?
The bottom line was, Masterson had effectively disappeared into thin air and the ABI didn’t have the slightest clue as how it had happened, who had instigated it, or where Masterson might be now. The president wasn’t happy and the brass hats over at the Heptagon weren’t happy — all of which meant that ABI Director Fredrick J. Danforth most definitely wasn’t happy. Unfortunately, the other thing that Fred didn’t have the slightest clue about, was what else he might possibly do about it.
* * * *
The Rak Planet Vnayrk
December, 3867
Drix and N’raal’s new log mansion was complete, and once again Hal put up a Christmas tree in what he called the family room… a great open gathering area with a high arched ceiling with log beams and a massive stone fireplace at one end. Hal’s Christmas decorations were even more extensive in this new residence than the year before, with eye-pleasing sprigs of greenery, red berries and brown seedpods, tastefully adorning even the most remote corners. Strangely, even with the author of Christmas trees so recently being the object of death threats, reasonable facsimiles of Christmas trees oddly began appearing unprompted in other places and other buildings, as though it were a new, impromptu fashion statement.
The threats against Hal had subsided over time, as the Raknii of the compound became more accustomed to the concept that their military had suffered crushing defeats in almost every engagement they had fought against humans. Drix lowered the number of Raknaa bodyguards stationed around Hal down to four, but he still took no chances with the safety of such a wealth of information concerning human morality and ethics. Hal was a great help in assisting Drix to compose his new code of ethics for the Raknii people, and at times it had sometimes felt like they had established a full partnership in the monumental endeavor.
Reports received from Raan seemed to indicate that the humans were indeed working their way through Raknii space towards Region-4, and the targets they’d intentionally left on those planted star charts intended to bait them there. It appeared that much of the human ship movements were transports... targets vulnerable to Raknii attack, but Raan wisely ordered his forces to remain hidden instead of irritating the enemy with nuisance raids against their logistics. No sense advertising the massive Raknii presence within those supposed life-voids, which might prompt the humans to look for the bases where those raiders had originated.
Evacuation of those new Raknii worlds closest to human worlds was almost complete. They couldn’t be held, and withdrawal seemed the only logical choice left to them. Safety for the Rak now depended on remaining hidden from their implacable human enemies — a fact that galled the Raknii everywhere, but a fact, nevertheless.
* * * *
The Confederate Planet Lusia
December, 3867
Senator Patrick Franklin George of Lusia held off a late surge in the polls staged by his opponent and won a narrow victory over Governor Jennifer Steele of Joja in the Confederate presidential election of 3867, to become the second president of the Confederate Stellar Accord. The new president-elect planned to take a few weeks off, after months of vigorous campaigning, before heading back to Rikmon to confer with outgoing President Lincoln Collier, to coordinate the transition of power.
George remained humble about his victory, as he knew that most Confederate citizens would have greatly preferred Fleet Admiral Kalis to become their second president. But as Kalis was currently hunting down aliens in deep space, beyond the Alliance’s northern borders, it fell to him to assume the reins of power and keep Kalis’ fleets supplied... an arrangement which suited George just fine. Given a choice, President-Elect Patrick Franklin George much preferred staying home and signing checks, to chasing down cats and pulling triggers.
* * * *
The Alliance Planetoid Discol
December, 3867
It turned out that Noreen hadn’t quite “retired” after leaving her position as CEO and COO of BioCom, when Diet decided it was time they left Massa and returned “home” to Waston, after all. He had dispatched her on several business trips, signing deals and overseeing operations of various TBG enterprises in both the Alliance and the Confederacy. As promised, Diet had given her a new gold nametag… real gold, as it turned out, inscribed with Baroness Noreen Guderian, President and Chief Operations Officer of Tydlich Bundesgenosse Gespenster. She traveled in style on board one of Diet’s luxurious corporate spaceliners whenever she traveled on TBG business, but she found herself missing Diet whenever she was away from home… and Hal for that matter, as apparently the only fully sentient versions of him were on Discol, Massa, and Minnos.
But she was home now and they were getting ready to share their third Christmas together. And once again, the flesh and blood version of Hal was missing from their annual family Yuletide get together. Noreen didn’t really understand “why” it seemed so terribly important to her that the “Hal” occupying the clone of Diet’s body be restored to them, but it felt especially important around Christmas time… It was just so damned awkward not being able to buy Diet’s “brother” anything for Christmas. Besides, what the hell could she buy for a disembodied computer anyway?
But she did have a very special Christmas gift for Diet this year. Richest man in the universe or not, she wasn’t going to be outdone by Diet and his computerized compadre when it came to gift-giving this year. Noreen’s doctor had just informed her that she was pregnant with Diet’s child.
* * * *
Chapter-15
If I were two-faced, would I be wearing this one? -- Abraham Lincoln
The Rak Planet Vnayrk
February, 3868
Supreme-Master Xior was dying and everyone knew it. Like everyone else, Drix and N’raal intensely hoped the supreme-master’s condition would improve enough to forgo the dreaded turn just a little while longer — the turn when his sire would call for his heir to return to Raku.
Drix and Hal worked feverishly together, in Drix’ attempt to
document a new moral code for the Raknii people... a new code of personal ethics that would bring back the old ways of their race and restore the Raknii to their designated role within nature. This new code would also create an entirely new and radical way of thinking about life and relationships, not only with each other, but also with alien races who were even now, poised to push the Raknii off the precipice of existence as a free and independent race.
Drix and N’raal both absolutely adored the huge rustic log home that Hal had played such an important role in designing for them, but life just has a way of taking those things you love away from you. They only got five sub-cycles and just that one Christmas in their beautiful new home, before the message came that changed their lives forever.
* * * *
The Rak Planet Slithin
March, 3868
In the dead of night, a dark figure, clothed all in black, moved stealthily about Blug’s bed chamber... observed by neither the snoring Blug, nor his tripled Raknaa guards on duty right outside this most secure area within Blug’s palace. This figure moved about in the dead of night by choice, not necessity. He could have boldly walked right past Blug’s guards and Blug himself in bright daylight and still not been seen, for he was an OverMaster — a dark, invisible servant of Dol and the supreme-master...a mythical figure from ancient legend, in whom few if any, besides a small smattering of cubs, even believed anymore. To humans, he might have been called the boogieman.
He was not here for Blug, as he had been earlier for Xlan, the last of Xior’s reprobate offspring that Blug had foolishly tried to shelter from the wrath of his sire and the Raknii god, whom the OverMasters served. No, he wasn’t here for Blug, but for Blug’s clothing. Again, just as he had on every other night for the past several sub-cycles, the OverMaster carried with him four vials of fast-drying liquids, with which he doused Blug’s clothing in a particular order.
Wrath of an Angry God: A Military Space Opera (The Sentience Trilogy Book 3) Page 16