“Right,” he said raising his glass. “Whatever they have in store for us, it’s gonna be a bitch.”
* * * *
Despite James’ repeated assurances that the Director would be right with them, thirty minutes later Carr and Sanchez were still cooling their heels in the outer office. Finally, they were buzzed in to see their superior, who was seated at the room’s large briefing table.
“Sorry for the delay,” Jason Tolbert said, “but we had to wait for our guest to be available.”
“Our guest?” asked Carr, looking around and seeing only the three of them.
“My fault, I’m afraid.” To Carr’s right, a hologram materialized in the form of Goran Jones, Prime Minister of the Earth Federation. “With current events as they are, things are a mess here on Earth right now,” said the image of the tall, thin man. “It’s good to see both of you again.”
“Goran!” cried out Sanchez. “Oh, Gods, it’s good to see you. Excuse me, I suppose I should address you as Prime Minister Jones.”
“If you do, I shall be very cross,” he joked. The OMI operatives had originally met the Earth leader when he simply went by ‘Goran.’ After his decree that all Earthers adopt the Renaissance Sector tradition of having two names, the Prime Minister selected ‘Jones’ for himself—he thought it sounded upright and possessed character.
“If you weren’t just a bunch of holographic lights, I’d give you a big hug,” said Sanchez.
“I wouldn’t,” added Carr with a grin, “but I would shake your hand.”
Jones smiled. He looked a little thinner than the last time they’d met, which Carr thought was nearly impossible since the man was sticklike in the first place. Also, what little hair he had was grayer now. Leading a fledgling starhold was obviously a demanding job.
“Please sit down, my friends—I’m afraid I have a rather large favor to ask of you,” Jones said, putting on a somber face. “How much have they been told, Director?”
“Nothing, Prime Minister.”
“Ahh,” said Jones, pausing to consider how to proceed. “How much do you two know of the incursion into Earth space this week?”
“Mostly just what the Nets are saying,” answered Sanchez. “The Gerrhans tried to destroy the hypergate and land troops in Bakkoa.”
“Very true, but it seems now that those may have been secondary objectives.”
“Secondary?”
The Prime Minister took a deep breath and continued. “The true motives for the attack seem to have been to facilitate a kidnapping.”
“A kidnapping?” said Carr. “That’s a lot of effort to go through to kidnap someone.”
Jones nodded. “Well, he is a remarkable man.”
“Goran, who could be so important?” asked Sanchez.
“Doctor Acree.”
Carr and Sanchez shot each other a look. Acree was the preeminent scientist of his world and came with the Earth colonists from the Otherverse. In fact, he had supervised the construction of the Threshold, which made travel between the two universes possible.
“Goran, help me understand,” said Carr. “I thought Acree was dead. He died in the explosion of the Threshold, the one triggered by Sheel and Naar.”
“But he didn’t,” Jones said. “Allow me to explain. As Deputy Governor at the time, I kept tabs on as many of Sheel’s schemes as I could. Discovering that he was planning to destroy the Threshold, my associates and I were able to smuggle Acree and most of the other scientists off the station before Sheel triggered the explosion. For the past two years, Doctor Acree has been living a quiet life on the outskirts of Bakkoa. We tried to keep it all a secret because we feared something like this might happen. Apparently the Gerrhans found out about him and devised this operation to steal him away from us.”
Jason Tolbert pitched in. “The confusion caused by the space assault helped Gerrhan agents kidnap the doctor and get him off the planet. Make no mistake, I’m sure they would have loved to have been as successful in the other phases of their attack as well.
“The Gerrhans are desperate for shield technology and Doctor Acree can give it to them—along with a great deal more. Conceivably, he could help them build a new Threshold. I don’t think I have to paint a picture of how disturbing it would be for the Commonwealth to have a gateway to the Otherverse.”
He certainly didn’t. Commonwealth access to a parallel universe existing two-hundred years in the future would be disastrous. There was also the possibility of the so-called ‘Adversary’ from the Otherverse using that same gateway to enter this universe—an even more troubling thought.
“That was a very brave thing to do, Goran—placing yourself at risk to save Acree and the others,” said Sanchez. “If Sheel had suspected, he would have executed you.”
Goran Jones reddened slightly. “Thank you for your praise, Etta, but I had to do it. You see, Doctor Acree is my father.”
Carr was past the point of being shocked, but Sanchez’s face registered surprise.
“I didn’t know Acree was your father,” said Sanchez.
“Neither does anyone else. After I got my position as an administrator in the colonial expedition, my father and I decided to keep our relationship a secret. He thought it best that I advance on my own merit and not because I was his son. No one here at the colony knew—not the late Governor Cheprin or Sheel or anyone. As it turned out, that probably saved both of our lives.”
“And now the Gerrhans have him,” Sanchez murmured.
“Yes,” said Tolbert, “and if they have him long enough they will eventually pry loose scientific secrets we don’t want them knowing, not to mention the harm that might come to him.”
“I didn’t save my father from death to be tortured for his knowledge,” said Jones firmly. “We must save him. Unfortunately, EarthFed doesn’t have much of an intelligence network as of yet. We are asking our Union friends for assistance on this matter. Surely, you see that it is in the best interest of both our peoples to get my father back.
“Perhaps it’s unfair of me to ask,” pleaded Jones, “but Director Tolbert tells me that you two are the best of his operatives. Will you help?”
Carr stood from his chair and leaned against the conference table. “Goran, you did save our lives once. I learned a long time ago not to try to speak for Sanchez, but as for myself—yes, I’ll help.”
The men turned to Sanchez. Running her fingers through her black pageboy hair and taking a deep breath, she put on a lopsided smile. “Sure, sure—I’m in.”
Tolbert’s grave voice drove home a point. “Of course you two realize this means going to Gerrha. They’ll almost certainly take a high priority prisoner like Acree to the capital. If you get caught, considering that we’re at war…” He didn’t have to finish the thought. Both Carr and Sanchez understood it could be a one-way trip.
“I don’t know how to express my gratitude,” said the Prime Minister.
Carr shook his head. “Not needed. If it’s humanly possible to bring your father back to you, we will.”
“Don’t worry, Goran,” assured Sanchez. “I’m going along to see that Carr doesn’t screw it up. Everything will be fine.”
The Earth leader said his farewells and his hologram disappeared from the room. The friendly smiles of Carr and Sanchez disappeared too. Going to the enemy’s capital city during wartime. Oh, for the days of easy missions, like the one to Threnn, thought Carr.
“One thing I don’t quite understand, Director,” said Sanchez. “We already have a network of people on Gerrha. Why send in new operatives?”
“With the outbreak of war, we have to assume anyone we have on Gerrha may have been compromised. Most of them have already gone dark. You are to avoid all contact with any of our case officers and operatives on Gerrha. We’ll use rentals for your support.” ‘Rental’ was an OMI euphemism which essentially meant hired help—mercenary agents, information sellers, and the like.
“Rentals, huh? Not ideal, but better than nothing,�
� said Carr.
Sanchez rolled her eyes. “Yeah, because they’re soooo reliable.”
“How are we going in?” Carr asked, knowing he wasn’t going to like the answer. “It’s wartime—we can’t just hop a starliner to Gerrha.”
“You’ll catch a freighter to Cardea.” Both of the operatives moaned. By anyone’s standards, Cardea was a despicable society on a dreadful planet. A brutally repressive monarchy, its one saving grace was that corruption was so widespread anything could be bought and anyone could be bribed.
“Two weeks to Cardea,” the Director continued, “and two more weeks to Gerrha. That should put you in Beresford City around the same time Choi’s ships make it back with the doctor.”
A few minutes later, the operatives were preparing to leave when Tolbert asked for a private minute with Carr. As Sanchez was about to go through the door to the outer office, she turned to Tolbert.
“Don’t worry, Director. We’ll get Doctor Acree back to Earth safely.”
“Actually,” said Tolbert, “that detail is in your briefing tablet. You are to return him here, to Esterkeep—not to Earth.”
“Why so?” asked Carr.
“Gerrha to Sarissa is half the distance as opposed to trying to make it all the way back to Earth. We want him in safe hands as quickly as possible. By that time, the Gates connecting Sarissa and Earth will be up and running. You two return him here, and we will make certain he gets back to Earth safely.”
Sanchez moved into the other office, much to the delight of James. Meanwhile, Tolbert asked Carr to sit down again.
“Secrets from Sanchez?” half-joked Carr.
“Not really. As senior operative, you’re still mission commander when you two are in the field. I just wanted to go over a couple of things with you before you depart.”
Carr and Sanchez had worked together for two years now, and the Director had never felt the need to ‘go over things’ before. Frank thought it was odd and a little unnerving.
Tolbert uneasily stroked his Van Dyke. “When you get to the Gerrhan capital, your main contact is going to be Eden Southwell. I don’t suppose she’s ever come up in conversation with Sanchez before, has she?”
It just keeps getting better and better. “No, but I’ll deal with it,” said Carr, trying to hide his irritation. “Thanks for the heads up.”
“Sorry, but Eden’s our best source of information there,” apologized Tolbert. “Well, I mean, you know how she is.”
“Yeah, I know how she is.”
“Another thing I want you to ask her about is something called the Committee of Nine. We keep getting bits and pieces on this group but nothing that fits together. See if Southwell has any knowledge of them.”
“Will do. Anything else?”
Tolbert fidgeted in his chair. There was obviously something else, and it was something unpleasant that he had put off until the end. “Frank, you realize that if you two can’t free Acree, he’ll have to be dealt with in another way.”
Carr gave his chief a hard look. “We are not assassins, Director.”
“We? I thought you said you never spoke for Sanchez.”
“I can on this, and I repeat—we are not assassins.” It was an uncomfortable moment for both men. “You’ve never asked me to do wetwork before.”
“We’ve never been in this kind of situation before. OMI has damned few reliable assets on Gerrha right now. I need to know that whatever Doctor Acree carries around in his head is not going to pass into the hands of the Commonwealth. Do I make myself clear, Frank?”
“Yes, sir—you are very clear.” Carr rose to leave, giving Tolbert one more stern look before going through the door. He started to say something and then reconsidered. The Director was indeed very clear—it didn’t mean that Carr agreed with him though.
8: Precipice
Stachel Bay
Planet Sarissa
The helicraft made a smooth banked turn as it passed over the seaside town. From his passenger seat, Thomas Hoyt could see the people below filling the white beaches on this beautiful warm afternoon. It was summer in the southern hemisphere and the vacationers were out in droves. As they flew over, some of the crowd glanced up at the Stellar March company helicraft and a few even waved.
Stachel Bay was a resort town on the western coast of Tabora, one of the two sparsely populated continents located below the equator. The government had been working hard to create economic development zones here, pouring millions of the taxpayers’ money into enticing tourists and businesses to this remote part of the planet. It was all a waste as far as Hoyt was concerned. Spending other peoples’ money was just another thing the government did poorly, and as far as he could see, the southern continents were nothing more than a money pit.
The pilot tapped Hoyt’s arm and pointed off to the left. From their altitude, they could see schools of marnwin playing in the water not too far from some swimmers. Marnwin were a type of small cetacean native to the planet, similar to their dolphin cousins back on Earth. These sea mammals were always eager to swim and play with humans—only the Gods knew why.
As the aircraft flew northward, the city and its sun-worshipping tourists fell behind him. Now unspoiled white sands met the ocean waves as the terrain slowly but steadily rose. In the distance, ocean cliffs could be seen, and crowning them sat his destination—Gracemere.
The mansion belonged to Roman Zevkov, just one of his many homes on many planets. The shore rose at this point because the owner wanted his house to sit on a peak overlooking the ocean, so workers built a sea cliff upon which to place the house. The mansion itself was of twenty-sixth century neo-cubic design, looking as if some giant child had been stacking glass blocks on the precipice.
Gracemere had over fifty rooms, and Hoyt was reasonably certain that Mr. Zevkov had never been in more than five or six of them. The live-in house staff enjoyed more of the benefits of the home than the owner, who was only here during Boutwell’s coldest months and then only for a week or two at a time.
As the helicraft lowered onto the cantilevered landing pad, Hoyt grabbed his tablet bag. He would only be here for an hour—perhaps ninety minutes. A quick meeting with Mr. Zevkov and then back in the air. At least the pilot would be able to relax, use the bathroom, and grab a bite to eat. Hoyt would be lucky to do any of the three.
As he walked down the ramp from the helipad, he passed the outdoor pool. On a chaise was an alluring brunette, lounging in a prone position at poolside. She looked like she might be from Quijano, but he couldn’t say for sure. As his eyes poured over her dusky nude body he nearly tripped, which must have caught her attention because she raised her head and looked in his direction. Flipping over to lay on her back, she offered him a smile and reached for an iced drink on the table next to her.
Inside the mansion, it wasn’t nearly as hot as it was outside. The smart house sensed his body and applied extra air conditioning in the areas where he stood and walked until he was comfortable. A greeter showed him to one of the spacious living areas where he was offered a beverage and told that Mr. Zevkov would be with him in seven minutes. Well, at least he had time to use the bathroom.
Precisely seven minutes later, Roman Zevkov walked into the room. A handsome man in his late-fifties, a graying moustache and sideburns contrasted with his darker head of hair, giving him an air of distinction. Zevkov had a presence about him that commanded instant attention and respect. He wore a welcoming smile and extended his hand in greeting. The man was demanding, but he always treated his employees with respect and fairness. It was one of the reasons they were so loyal to him—that and the money.
“You picked a good day to travel,” said Zevkov as they sat down.
“Yes, it’s beautiful outside,” Hoyt answered, turning his head in the direction of the pool. The memory of the girl must have been written on his face, because Zevkov smirked. “Oh, yes—Giselle. She has that effect on most men.”
For an instant, Hoyt worried he had committed a
faux pas. He knew his employer pretty well and guessed that Zevkov only kept the girl around for vanity’s sake. The billionaire was much too obsessed with business and money to have time for pleasures of the flesh or feelings of the heart. Even so, it didn’t mean that the boss couldn’t still be jealous about someone eyeing up one of his possessions.
“You’re not married, are you, Tom? Have a girlfriend, eh?” asked Zevkov, adding “or a boyfriend?”
“No, sir, no one special,” said Hoyt more nervously than he’d hoped.
“Good, because let me tell you, a lover is nothing more than a distraction from achieving your goals.” Zevkov sat back in his chair, crossing his legs casually. “Take Giselle out there, for instance” he said. “Wonderful girl, beautiful eye candy, but I keep her around for…” He stopped to search for the proper words, perhaps realizing for the first time in a while that he really didn’t know why he kept her around. “For morale,” he finally said with a wide smile. “By the way, if you’d like to have her before you leave, just tell her I said that it’s all right.”
Hoyt wasn’t certain if he was blushing or if the air conditioning had momentarily faded. “Ah, thank you, sir, but I wouldn’t want to get, um—distracted.”
Zevkov gave out a large laugh and leaned forward to slap Hoyt’s leg. “Good lad,” he said. “And so—Project Arrow. What’s the good word, eh?”
Project Arrow was Thomas Hoyt’s baby. He had been the operational leader for sixteen months now, following the sudden illness and death of the previous supervisor. Putting an operation of this magnitude into Hoyt’s hands showed the confidence Mr. Zevkov had in him, and he wasn’t going to let the man down.
There was also Hoyt’s personal commitment to the project’s success. He believed in Arrow. The rapid decline of Union society during the last several years begged for a solution, and drastic though it was, Arrow seemed the only way.
“Everything is on schedule, sir,” Hoyt said, lifting a datatab from his tablet bag and handing it to his employer. “The latest shipments have arrived at Bona Dea, with one minor problem. There was a pair of faulty guidance modules in the delivery, so we diverted some replacements from the Arcadius Shipyard in Sequoya. The Union Space Force will just have to wait another month on delivery of their two newest destroyers.”
The Rampant Storm Page 6