No Safe Harbor: The Silver Liner

by Daniel Sullivan

  The Silver Liner: Takes Flight Original Copyright © 2015

  Copyright © 2016 by Daniel Sullivan All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or transmitted by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, information storage and retrieval systems, recording, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Created and printed in the United States of America.

  October 2016

  ISBN-10: 1539009254

  ISBN-13: 978-1539009252

  Edited by: Author Services by Cu

  Format and typesetting by C.L. Foster

  Cover Art: CM Wright's Author Services

  Dedication

  This work is dedicated to my family: my book-crazy parents, who fostered a love of reading in us when we were very young; my brother, a good friend and fellow author; Aunt Mary Dugan, who never showed up without bringing my brother and I books to read; and my two sons, Patrick and Connor, who have shared my love of reading and literature. Also to my friends, particularly my kendo class, my friends at Battley Harley Davidson, MCHOG, the Westat Lunch-Bunch, and the Rogues of our gaming group, all of whom encouraged me to publish my first novel, and to all who read that first novel.

  Also, and especially to my love, Lynda Mayfield, who has been an inspiration, a cheerleader, and a tireless beta reader on this work. Her support and encouragement cannot be overstated.

  This work is also dedicated to the many authors who have inspired me over the years, particularly J.R.R. Tolkien, C.S. Lewis, Bram Stoker, Mark Twain, Mercedes Lackey, and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, all of whose works were given to me by friends and family, and to Katherine Kurtz, whose Deryni novels were the first that I bought and collected on my own, and which remain my favorite series to this day. To George Lucas, Gene Roddenberry, Steven Spielberg, Jerry Siegel & Joe Shuster, Arnold Schwarzenegger, Dolph Lundgren, Joss Whedon, Rockne S. O'Bannon, Jim Henson, and Casey Hudson & the team that wrote and produced Mass Effect, all of whose works have inspired me at the cinema and at home, and to Jesus, who has been my greatest inspiration.

  Finally, I offer my thanks to you, the reader, who has taken the time to read this book.

  Prologue

  Verner Ness pondered the situation, not at all happy with the way it had spiraled out of control. It seemed that one thing had become clear: Royce was being sought after by both the United States and the Alliance. With Colonel Tracht, the project would involve NessCorp, meaning major profits, and jobs and bonuses for NessCorp execs. They needed that contract, which meant that the United States needed to get Royce; unless, if a deal could be struck, the Alliance offered even better opportunity for expansion and after all the money Lorgen had cost Ness, it was time to rethink his business arrangements.

  If NessCorp allied with the U.P.A. and if Royce were secured, the Alliance could leapfrog the United States, which was ahead of the game on this particular venture. Ness had only one condition; Xing’s team, particularly Agent Keyes, had cost him a great deal of money. Xing had been dealt with, but Keyes was at large. If the Alliance wanted NessCorp’s resources, Ness wanted something in return. He picked up the old style telephone, which he preferred, and placed the call.

  “Get me General Martins.”

  General Taylor Martins stood in Agent Xing’s office, official investigators searching for clues. Aside from an unusual residue on the floor, nothing was to be found. Xing’s drives were wiped, the data presumably downloaded first, a half a cup of cold tea sitting on his desk. Martins looked at the chair, noticing that something had been missed.

  “So, which one of you Inspector Clouseaus missed the chair?” His deep bass caught the attention of everyone in the room. When Martins did raise his voice; he projected like an orator.

  “Excuse me?” The indignant response came from one of the detectives, who wheeled to face Martins. His bluster drained when confronted with the imposing general.

  Taylor Martins stood one-point-nine meters tall, but it was his piercing gaze and powerful presence that cowed most who met him. Martins was of African descent, possessing a robustly handsome face, framed by dark hair, grayed at the temples. His jacket was adorned with the badges and insignia that declared his high rank in the Alliance.

  “Don’t give me that crap,” Martins growled. “There are blood stains on this chair and not one of you clowns took the time to make note of it. If you follow the path, you’ll find,” he stooped, inspecting the base of the chair, and continued, “dried blood.” The general stood, all eyes upon him. “You idiots sent me a report that Xing had skipped off with Alliance secrets. You’d have me sending people out on a wild goose chase. Foul play, people! And that residue holds the answer.”

  “How do you know?” The indignant detective had found a little spirit.

  Martins got right in his face, causing the color to drain from the man’s already fair skin. “Because, you moron, I’m a goddam general and I’ve fought in more wars and run more black ops than you have birthdays. This residue is the result of a nanotech gel that when poured on a corpse, dissolves it completely in less than fifteen minutes, bones and all.”

  “You — know that off the top of your head, sir?”

  “I’ve reduced enemies of the state to pond scum with that stuff personally,” the general declared. “You’ve got no ballistics evidence, so if he was shot, the bullet stayed in the body and was retrieved by whoever killed him after the body was dissolved; the gel won’t fully dissolve hard metal, or more likely, he was killed by a hand held weapon of some kind. Get that blood analyzed; I guarantee you it belongs to Agent Xing.”

  His data-pad chirped, indicating an incoming call. He stepped outside, well out of earshot of the others and took it; it was Xing’s superior, Captain Takasaki. He listened as Takasaki gave him details of Xing’s operation, finally understanding the full scope of it all.

  “Captain, see to it that all the loose ends are tied up. Divert all ships away from Keyes; she’ll starve or suffocate.”

  “Sir?”

  “You heard me, Captain,” Martins barked. “And take care of that girl on Luna that Keyes likes to use; we can’t risk letting her live. Don’t worry about Royce; he’s on his way to Mars. We’ll be waiting for him.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Captain Gifford’s received her orders and mulled them over for a long while. While the idea of chasing after Captain Lorgen was somewhat appealing; she could not stand the man, the reality was far less appealing. Lorgen had already left Mars, probably in pursuit of the S.S. Selene and Gifford’s had just been ordered to collect Colonel Tracht at the O.S.P. first. She was certain that it was purely for personal reasons that Tracht was coming along; the colonel had never been the type to hover over his subordinates and the two of them got along professionally.

  With the Enigma’s stealth systems, Lorgen would be very difficult simply to find, let alone catch. Even worse, once the Enigma was caught, she would have to be boarded in order to take Lorgen, something that would be costly, though Commander Jax was more than up to the task. Although Tracht had allowed for the option of destroying the Enigma if worse came to worst, Gifford’s knew that Tracht really wanted Lorgen apprehended and the ship recovered.

  Of course, orders were orders, so it was not as though the captain had a choice in the matter. Lorgen would not be taken alive if he could help it; this she was certain of. While she knew many a woman in the Navy who would cheer at the thought of a f
emale captain like Gifford’s putting one between Lorgen’s eyes, Gifford’s had never reveled in the deaths of others and thankfully, neither did her XO.

  Gifford’s left her cabin, joining her XO on the bridge. Commander Donovan Jax presided, the embodiment of the Colossus of Rhodes. The captain reminded herself that fraternization was against regulations every time she looked at him. Standing two meters in height, the dark haired, granite hewn Jax was the Marine Corps incarnate. His steel blue eyes practically impelled those who met his gaze to enlist. They want to increase female enlistment, put him on every recruitment ad.

  “Captain on deck,” he barked, saluting her as she entered.

  “At ease,” she said, returning the Commander’s salute. “Mister Jax, we have new orders. We’re going after the Enigma; seems Captain Lorgen has finally gone off the deep end.”

  “Finally?” Jax asked. “He did that long ago, ma’am.”

  “Agreed. When we have a fix on him, I need to know. Lorgen makes for Venus. Apparently, he’s developed some personal vendetta against Captain Kendrick Royce.”

  “A civilian? That’s odd.”

  “Indeed, Mister Jax. I’ve sent you the brief. As always, some details are classified, but I don’t think I need to remind anyone what kind of man Lorgen is, or the nature of his ship.”

  “We’ll stop him, ma’am.”

  Jax’s declaration ended the matter for him. Gifford’s hoped that her XO was right, though she was less confident. Her attention was diverted when the helmsman announced their destination.

  “Entering OSP space, ma’am.”

  “Take us in, Ms. Carlisle,” the captain replied.

  Moments later, the tower contacted them with docking instructions. The whole process took about twenty minutes, Ms. Carlisle performing the procedure manually. Gifford’s looked on approvingly as the ensign flawlessly matched the spin of the station and brought the massive ship to a halt, the hull sealing with the station’s docking tube with the impact of a gentle kiss, the docking clamps securing the ship.

  “Commander Jax, you have the bridge. I need to meet our guest.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Jax saluted Gifford’s.

  Once docked, the ship spun with the station, for a perfect duplication of Earth’s gravity. Gifford’s made her way to the Liberty’s Nexus, then to the port airlock. She took a deep breath and opened the doors. Standing in the doorway was Colonel Siegfried Tracht. She saluted the colonel, who returned her salute and flashed a toothy grin.

  “Damn good to see you again, Carol,” Tracht said warmly, shaking her hand.

  “Likewise, sir.”

  “You ready to go hunting?”

  Gifford’s grinned. “Absolutely, sir.”

  Chapter 1

  Love Thy Enemy

  December 31st, 2112, moments before midnight UTC (Coordinated Universal Time), the crew of the Selene was assembled on the bridge. Kendrick had no champagne on board, so Jim Beam six-shooters stood in. They were collectively amazed they had survived the year and celebration was in order. Ordinarily, celebrating took place in one of the ship’s lounges, where spin gravity was in effect, but Kendrick wanted to celebrate on the bridge.

  It was a bittersweet celebration, as Mun was still in a coma and they were still being pursued by the Alliance, the U.S. and corporate sponsored bounty hunters. The concern that they would be hunted for destruction of the Venus facility was held by all. With their chances of remaining free deteriorating rapidly, celebration was needed; it could be their last party and their last New Year’s Eve as free people.

  “Five … four … three … two … one … Happy New Year!”

  The five cheered in unison, then each downed a shot of their bourbon. Kendrick, Ronan and Heather savored bourbon’s taste, while Lena drank with no reaction. Fiona found herself gasping after downing the shot.

  “How do you do that without gagging?”

  “Years of practice, Doc,” Heather laughed. “Besides, I think you’re getting better. Have a few more.”

  “You mean like that time you liquored me up and sent me to the bridge?”

  “For the record,” Kendrick said, “I approved of that action after the fact. Heather, feel free to do that again.”

  Fiona blushed as Heather raised her bottle.

  “Will do, Captain.”

  “It is twenty-one-thirteen,” Ronan noted positively. “It’s a new year, with new possibilities. The United States just elected a new President; a woman, no less! I hear she was elected running on a populist platform.”

  “Yeah; Lenore Robinson,” Kendrick said. “I woulda voted for her if I could’ve, but I’m still bummed I missed Christmas.”

  “You were unconscious,” Lena reminded him. “I opened all your presents.”

  The entire room went silent, all eyes on Lena. Kendrick finally asked, “Did … you just crack a joke?”

  “I did,” she replied smiling. “I am self-aware; alive. I am developing a sense of humor. Based on my analysis of your facial expressions, my joke was successful.”

  “They didn’t open your presents.” Fiona reached over from her seat in the com officer’s chair to squeeze his knee.

  “I had presents?”

  “Yes; let me give you mine now.” Fiona smiled with a wink, then leaned over and gave him a long, sensuous kiss. “Merry Christmas.”

  Kendrick turned to Lena. “So, uh, you didn’t open that one, did you?”

  As Fiona blushed and Lena looked puzzled, Kendrick, Heather and Ronan enjoyed a hearty laugh.

  A month had passed since the Venus facility was destroyed and the launch window was opening, much to everyone’s relief. It was morning and Kendrick made his way to the bridge. He had taken to wearing casual clothes instead of the cyber-suit, preferring something loose-fitting for comfort in the wake of his still healing gunshot wound and broken arm. The captain was glad that his injuries weren’t worse; Mun still had not awakened from his coma. By contrast, Kendrick was now out of his sling and only wore a brace on his wrist and hand. He had full use of his digits; only movement of the wrist was restricted. Kendrick took his seat, relieved to be getting back on the road.

  Selene’s Ai was now back to its pre-virus state after he and Lena had spent two weeks getting all of the memories transferred back to the Selene’s computers, which until now, had been only used for running automation. With all of the data now returned to the ship’s main drives and backed up on secondary drives and departure from Venus imminent, it was time to reactivate the Ai.

  He initiated the restart sequence, beginning the various stages of loading, set-up and restoration. Kendrick patiently responded to prompts that required his input, doing his part to bring her back to full functionality. Slowly, the Ai was connected to every facet of the ship’s function as it had been before. Once complete, she would be the ship.

  As he oversaw the Ai’s restoration, Fiona and Father Ronan joined him, the priest taking the Gunner’s chair, Fiona the com officer’s.

  “How are you feeling?” asked the priest.

  “Getting better, but still aching,” Kendrick said. “How’s Mun?”

  “Same,” replied Fiona glumly. “He’s stable, but he needs hospitalization, and soon.”

  “Departure is imminent,” Kendrick declared enthusiastically. “Once I finish restoring the Ai, we’ll be outta here at Mach 30. When we get to Phoenix Station and get Mun admitted to a hospital, I have some contacts I need to make before we run again. No idea what we’ll do after that.”

  “I’m with you for the duration,” assured Ronan.

  “As am I,” declared Fiona warmly, reaching across and putting her hand gently on his shoulder. “For the duration and beyond; to wherever this voyage may take us, my captain.”

  Kendrick held Fiona’s hand to his shoulder for a long moment, enjoying her touch. They had been inseparable since declaring their feelings for each other, and Lena had encouraged them, frequently enabling the captain to be alone with Fiona. While the
couple had withheld physical intimacy, they had not withheld physical affection. Kendrick kissed her hand as another prompt came up in his mental screen.

  “How much longer on the Ai?” asked the priest.

  “Not much,” Kendrick said. “I was already at it for a while before you and Fi came in, so another ten minutes, tops.”

  “That’s fast,” Fiona remarked.

  “Lena and I did a lot of prep,” Kendrick noted, responding to another prompt and inputting commands. “The Ai was already installed; just not active. Lena laid most of the groundwork while I was still out.” He paused, responding to the final command. Selecting the ‘finish’ button on his mental screen, he got the message, Ai reinstallation complete; please restart the system. “Looks like we’re done!”

  “What now?” asked Fiona, leaning toward him and taking his hand.

  “I’m restarting the system. Once the computers are back up, our Selene should be back to her old self.”

  “Is Lena still an avatar for the ship?” asked the priest.

  “No; Lena’s Lena,” Kendrick laughed. “She can connect to Selene wirelessly, like I do, and can fly her. She’ll continue to be our helmsman. Between the two of us, we can keep the bridge covered most of the time.” Kendrick sent a message to Heather, alerting her of the restart. Once he got her acknowledgement, he selected the restart command in his mental screen. “All right, here goes.”

  Fiona squeezed his hand tightly.

  The computer shut down, causing a hard restart of all systems, except life support. The bridge lights went out, only the reflected light from Venus coming through the windows. Slowly, the systems reactivated. First, indicator lights and computer screens came online, then interior lighting.

  “System restore successful.” The Ai’s artificial voice said through the bridge speakers, no longer animated as it had been. “Restoring ship-wide functionality.”