The Rampant Storm

by J. Alan Field

  Sanchez gave a half-grin. “Bet you say that to all the girls.”

  They discussed more specifics and had a few more Hiwassee Pales while waiting for the darkness of evening. Sanchez got Julian talking, and he seemed like a bright young man. As Carr suspected, the boy knew everything, so there was no use even thinking about casting him aside at this point—it could have perilous consequences.

  As they rose to leave, Lucky and Julian walked hand in hand toward the door. Following, Carr smiled over at Sanchez and was about to say something when she raised her hand to stop him.

  “I know, I know,” she said. “Not my type.”

  The trip to the home of Maldonado’s cousin was a short one. The Black Dove syndicate used the term ‘cousin’ to refer to fellow organization members. In this case, it was a man and his wife who politely allowed the two foreigners the use of a bedroom for the night. No doubt, their hospitality had been bought and paid for, but Carr and Sanchez were grateful nonetheless.

  There was only one bed, but that wasn’t going to be an issue this evening. “I’ll take the first watch,” said Carr as he dimmed the lights and sat down in a chair. Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew a small pistol and placed it on the table next to him.

  “I take it you don’t trust these people,” said Sanchez sarcastically.

  Carr pulled a reading pad from out of his travel bag. “Let’s just say we need to be extra careful tonight.”

  “Where did you get the gun?”

  “Lucky slipped it to me. The man is a walking arsenal. At any given time, he’s carrying guns, knives, all sorts of hardware on him. The amazing thing is, he never gets caught—I don’t know how he does it.”

  “And blond boys—don’t forget about his stash of them,” Sanchez added with a smirk as she scrunched up a pillow and plopped herself into bed.

  “I know. Just once, I wish we could at least get to Act Three before someone decided to go off script,” Carr said. “Lucky’s always had a thing for the blonds, but it’s usually been one-night stands. He would have to pick this week to fall in love.”

  She flashed him a pointed look. “Do you still trust him?”

  “No more than I trust anyone else,” Carr said in a weary voice. “Present company excepted.”

  A smile came to Sanchez’s lips as she closed her eyes.

  “But we do need him,” continued Carr. “So we’re stuck trusting him for the time being. Get some rest. I’ll wake you in four hours.”

  Maldonado hadn’t screwed up anything too badly yet, Carr thought. It would be interesting to see what would happen with Julian after they all arrived on Gerrha. His guess was that once they left the spaceport at the Gerrhan capital, Lucky would never see the guy again. As far as Carr was concerned, as long as Maldonado did his job, his romantic problems were his own.

  * * * *

  It didn’t take long. About an hour after Sanchez lay down, there was noise coming from the living area of the house. Carr stepped near the door to listen. Muffled words were being exchanged and there were some thumps, possibly furniture being overturned. Sanchez was now up and by his side. She was exceptional at moving quickly and quietly.

  Carr handed the pistol to Sanchez, and he opened the door. Seeing nothing, he crept into and down the hallway, Sanchez trailing behind. Just when he was about to peek into the living room, he heard a voice.

  “Frankie, it’s me.”

  Lucky Maldonado and another man were standing over the house owner and his wife. The two were lying prone on the floor, having obviously been beaten into that position. Both were trembling, and the man was whimpering.

  “Looks like our hired help is having a problem with his hired help,” said Sanchez, lowering her gun.

  Carr sighed. “It’s been a long day, Lucky. What’s going on?”

  Maldonado flashed his trademark smile. “Wrapping up some loose ends, Frankie. Sorry to wake you up, but better that than what these pigs had in mind for you two.”

  Lucky stepped toward a table as the other man held a pistol on the couple. “This is my cousin, Alejandro. He’ll be taking over my portion of Apula for the Black Doves after I leave.”

  Alejandro mumbled a greeting. He didn’t seem to be in the best of moods right now.

  Maldonado reached under the table and removed some sort of listening device that had been hidden there. “Alejandro and I have long suspected these two of playing both sides of the street. Just after you turned in for the evening, we eavesdropped on a very interesting conversation about how they could turn you both into the local Okhrana.”

  “The secret police? So, are we expecting company any moment?” asked Carr.

  “No. They never got to make the call,” said Maldonado. “Gather your things. My car is parked on the corner. Give us ten minutes to clean things up here.”

  Carr and Sanchez retreated to the back seat of Lucky’s car, scrunching down low and out of sight. Shortly, Maldonado and Alejandro came out of the house, shook hands, and parted ways. As Lucky got into his car, Sanchez pressed her pistol to the back of his head.

  “You freaking bastard. You used us as bait,” spat out Sanchez.

  “Easy chica, easy! You were, how should I say, useful,” replied Lucky, in a more confident voice than a man with a gun to his head had a right to use. “I knew those two couldn’t resist trying to gain favor with the police by handing you over. It was a matter I had to clean up before leaving tomorrow. I had your backs all the way—you were never in any danger.”

  “We can’t kill him, Director Tolbert would be displeased,” said Carr dryly, as Sanchez lowered the weapon. “But that’s about the only reason not to. Now, my friend, are we done here?”

  “Yes, we’re done,” Maldonado answered. “I will now take you to my place for a much better night’s sleep.”

  “First Julian and now this,” said Sanchez. “That’s two you owe us, amigo.”

  “What about your unreliable cousins?” Carr said, pointing toward the house.

  “No longer a problem. They have become very reliable,” said Maldonado grimly. “Eternally so.”

  * * * *

  When the trio arrived at the spaceport the next morning, Sanchez was still angry at Lucky but Carr had let the incident go. The Black Doves had their way of handling things, and he could appreciate Maldonado’s problem. Lucky was not only escorting the Sarissans to Gerrha, he was relocating there. The Doves would sanction the move only if his affairs were in order on Cardea first. He only wished Maldonado had let him in on what was going down—call it professional courtesy.

  They were met in the spaceport foyer by Julian. The boy was flamboyantly dressed in a white suit and a fresh streak of pink running through his blond locks. He looked so nervous Carr was afraid he was going to give them all away. “Way to keep a low profile,” was Carr’s only comment.

  “Here are your new IDs and travel docs,” said Lucky as he nonchalantly distributed the articles.

  “Will we need to bribe anyone along the way?” asked Sanchez.

  Maldonado shook his head. “Probably not. We’re leaving, not coming in. The thinking is we probably don’t have much money left to bribe with. If there’s any trouble, let me handle it. And you,” he pointed to his lover, “not a word. I do all the talking. Trust me and neither of us will ever see this miserable excuse for a planet again.” Julian nodded, looking afraid and excited at the same time.

  As it turned out, there was no trouble. The bureaucrats barely looked up as they processed the travel docs and checked the boarding passes. One clerk seemed amused as he looked through the forged IDs, but he said nothing. Maldonado later guessed the old man knew everything in front of him was a lie, but probably just didn’t care.

  As their shuttle lifted off for the orbital starport where they would transfer to the starliner, Julian couldn’t contain himself any longer. Tears of joy streamed down his cheeks as Lucky held his hand. Sanchez, sitting on his other side, patted his shoulder to comfort the boy. He may n
ot have been as happy as Julian was, but Carr was also glad to see the last of Cardea.

  Hours later, they were aboard a Galbanese starliner and back in hyperspace. Only one incident marred the transit, as a keen-eyed flight steward somehow spotted that the travel docs were fakes. Lucky smoothed it over by bribing the man, with the payoff somehow involving Julian. Neither Carr nor Sanchez wanted to know the details.

  Despite her pique, Sanchez admitted during the trip that Maldonado was a resourceful person to have on their side. Julian also turned out to be a surprise. By two days into the flight, he had mingled with almost every passenger onboard. Carr thought he was looking for his next sugar daddy, someone to replace Lucky once they arrived on Gerrha. As it turned out, Julian was intel harvesting. By Day Three of the flight, the boy was passing along the identities, occupations, and personal details of nearly everyone aboard ship. Even Carr was impressed.

  The four of them might make a good team, but the closer they got to Gerrha, the more pessimistic Carr’s mood became. Finding Dr. Acree was going to take a huge measure of luck. And once they found him, how the hell were they going to free him? It all started to look like a fool’s errand, especially since they were going to have to deal with the one person in the universe Carr wanted to avoid—Eden Southwell.

  12: Orders

  Heavy cruiser Tempest

  In Earth orbit

  Slowly, things were getting back to normal aboard Tempest—as normal as things could be, considering lives had disappeared that would never be seen again. The EarthGate had been close to completion even before the Gerrhan attack. Since then, work had accelerated to finish the stellar gateway. The only step that remained now was several weeks of testing between EarthGate and its twin in the Artemis system. That development alone caused most of the people on Earth to rest easier during the past few days.

  For the better part of this week, Captain Pettigrew had sequestered himself in his stateroom. He was still lamenting the loss of those under his command, but his isolation involved a more practical and pressing need—paperwork. In the days following Choi’s attack, the repair work and memorial services had pushed aside the day-to-day chores of command, and he was now working to get caught up.

  For thousands of years of military history, commanders had been burdened with the unenviable tasks of official procedure. Supply requisitions, work authorizations, performance reports—it never ended. Despite the fact that paperwork no longer actually involved any paper, it was still tedious, boring, and unfortunately necessary. Pettigrew had to address the same mundane administrative issues that military leaders had handled for ages. He could imagine Bill Halsey, or maybe Wellington or Genghis Khan sitting at a table sorting through personnel evaluations just as he was doing right now. All right, he laughed to himself, maybe not Genghis Khan…

  “Captain Pettigrew,” called the Tempest’s AI through its voice interface.

  “Yes, Ship.”

  “You have an incoming FTL communication from Central Command. It is a Red Channel priority message, sir.”

  It was a cinch that no one at the Centroplex was using a priority channel just to say “hello.” Was it going to be good news or bad news? With a war on, Pettigrew was guessing it was going to be bad.

  “Put it through to my station here.”

  Shortly, Admiral Carson appeared on the console viewer. “Captain Pettigrew, good to see you. It’s coming a little late, but I want to congratulate you and TF Nineteen on your successful defense of EarthGate. Excellent work, Captain.”

  “Thank you, sir. Unfortunately, it came at a high price.”

  “Captain, I have new orders for you and your group,” Carson continued on, oblivious to Pettigrew’s comment. “You are to bring Task Force Nineteen to the Varasova system, ASAP.”

  Pettigrew studied the admiral’s face. “Varasova, sir?”

  “That’s correct, Captain. Back to Artemis and two weeks out.”

  “So, it will take us at least seven weeks then, sir.”

  Carson let a faint smile cross his lips. “Not at all, Captain. You are to transit via the EarthGate to Artemis, then gate again to Sequoya and move on to Varasova. You need to be there in no more than two weeks’ time.”

  Pettigrew’s expression must have betrayed him. “What’s the problem, Captain?” Carson asked tersely.

  “Well, Admiral, EarthGate is complete, yes, but it hasn’t gone through all the testing yet. I’m told the final procedures will take at least another twenty days.”

  Carson leaned forward toward the camera. “Relax. I’ve just spoken to the Gate supervisor. She assures me that the Gate connection is good to go and that there will be no difficulties. How soon can you be ready to transit?”

  “I suppose by tomorrow. However, you’re not giving me much to work with here, sir. What’s at Varasova? Can you give me any information as to what’s going on?”

  Carson was impatient. “No, Captain, I can’t. You will receive further orders when you arrive at your destination—Carson out.” With that, the connection was broken. Pettigrew stared at the blank screen for a few moments, then rapped his right fist into the palm of his left hand. He didn’t like blind orders, and he especially didn’t like this business of flying into a Gate that hadn’t been fully tested yet.

  “Ship, where is Mr. Swoboda?”

  “Mr. Swoboda is currently in the wardroom.”

  “Have him report to me on the bridge. Also, who is the current OOD?”

  “The current Officer of the Deck is Lieutenant Commander Nyondo.”

  “Thank you,” Pettigrew said as he hurriedly left his stateroom.

  Minutes later, the Tempest computer AI was announcing “Captain on the bridge.” Pettigrew and Commander Swoboda got off the turbolift together, with Swoboda still chewing on the last oat cracker he grabbed before leaving the wardroom.

  “Ms. Nyondo, give me a look at the Varasova system,” Pettigrew requested as he sat down in the command chair.

  The chief astrogator hesitated, at first not recognizing the name. Racing her fingers over her console, she produced a 3D image on the forward viewscreen.

  “That’s it?” said Pettigrew indignantly. “That’s Varasova?”

  Nyondo shot Swoboda an inquiring look and he made a slight shrug of his shoulders. “Yes, sir—Varasova,” she said. “It’s a type-O single blue star located nine light-years from the Sequoya system.”

  “But on the spinward side, not too far from Commonwealth space,” muttered Pettigrew to himself.

  Swoboda stood next to the captain with his arms crossed. “Near an important Union system. Then why can’t I remember anything about it?”

  “Because there’s not much to remember,” answered Nyondo. “Two gas giants with thirteen moons between them. The moons are all airless, lifeless rocks. Aside from occasional mining activity, that’s it. May I ask the captain about his curiosity concerning this system?”

  “Orders, Commander.” Pettigrew extended his hand toward the viewscreen hologram. “I give you our next port of call.”

  Pettigrew saw the confused look that passed between Nyondo and Swoboda and knew if he turned around in his chair, he would see an entire bridge full of similar expressions. The watch Tactical Officer cleared her throat, seeking attention.

  “Something, Ensign Kuypers?” asked the XO.

  “Begging your pardon, sirs,” she said, then shot a glance over to Nyondo, “and ma’am, but there’s an additional navigation note attached to the Varasova chart.”

  “So there is,” said Nyondo. “Good eye, Ensign.” Olivia Kuypers had transferred aboard Tempest less than a month ago. She was a fair-skinned, fiery redhead who occasionally had trouble keeping her opinions to herself while on duty. Nonetheless, Kuypers showed skill and the promise of becoming a fine line officer.

  “The Varasova system is currently under an Order Thirty-Two,” reported Nyondo. “It’s off-limits to all commercial and mining craft.”

  “Why?” Pettigrew aske
d her.

  “Unsafe radiation levels. Says here the star’s emitting dangerous spikes of epsilon radiation.”

  “And they want us to go there?” said a baffled Swoboda.

  Kuypers turned in her chair and looked eagerly toward the captain.

  “Go ahead, Ensign—out with it.”

  “Actually, if we don’t get too close to the star, military-grade radiation shielding should protect us.” Before Pettigrew could ask, Kuypers added, “I was in the rad control program at the Academy before I switched to tactical, sir.”

  Captain Pettigrew nodded slowly at the ensign. Slapping his hands on the armrests of the command chair, he stood up. “All right, let’s move on this. Mr. Swoboda, notify all task force captains that we are departing Sol tomorrow at zero nine-hundred hours. All fleet leaves are cancelled and recall anyone who’s on the surface.”

  Strolling over to Nyondo, Pettigrew spoke in a lower, private voice. “Commander, get in touch with the supervising director of the EarthGate and set up a video conference for my quarters ASAP. You and I need to ask this woman some serious questions.”

  * * * *

  It was going to be difficult to say goodbye to Earth. Task Force 19 had been stationed there off and on for the better part of the last two standard years. Many of the Union spacers and Marines had formed an emotional bond to the Blue Planet. Some had taken lovers on the surface, while others had fallen in love with the world itself. The report of three deserters didn’t come as a shock to Pettigrew, but it was disheartening just the same.

  “Two crewmembers from the Silvanus and one Marine from the Sinopa, sir,” reported Captain Cruz, CO of the Tempest’s Marine detachment. “I’ve got boots on the surface searching for them, but my people will have to come up soon to make the departure time.”

  This wasn’t the way Pettigrew wanted to start his day. “Bring your Marines up now, Captain. Contact the proper EarthFed authorities and have them keep their eyes open, but right now we don’t have time for a manhunt.”

  Pettigrew’s guess was that the runaways would never be found. All three would probably disappear into one of the many new settlements being founded on the Earth frontier. There was a settlement in someplace once called California, a new village on the shores of Australia, and many more. The capital city of Bakkoa was growing fast, as was the new town of Subashi, which was located in the ancient land of China. He had always believed desertion to be a cowardly and despicable act—so why did a small corner of his soul feel envious.