The Rampant Storm

by J. Alan Field

  “This planet is so cold,” he said with false solemnity. “Perhaps I should stay here tonight. We could keep each other warm.”

  She shook her head. “Horrible line,” she laughed. “And your room is in this hotel, one floor below if I’m not mistaken.”

  They kissed again and she stroked his cheek with her hand. “You know, another one of your incredible martinis and I just might let you stay.”

  He smiled. “Would you like another?”

  She looked into his brown eyes. “I believe I would.”

  * * * *

  The next day, most of the visitors from Sarissa traveled with the First Consul to an army base located in a town some thirty miles from Stavenstad. It wasn’t a large base, but considering the war, Darracott’s handlers felt it would be good for her to be seen visiting a military facility.

  The event was held in an aircraft hangar. A huge banner reading “Six Worlds: One People” covered the wall behind a raised stage. When the First Consul arrived, she was dressed in a gray Union army uniform. The troops roared their approval, especially since the uniform was that of an enlisted soldier and not an officer.

  Karl Gideon did not make the trip to the army base. He and some Trade Ministry officials stayed in Stavenstad to meet with business and civic leaders. Darracott was consumed with her tour and obligations, but at various points in the day, she found her mind drifting back to Gideon and the rapture of last night. Even if it was to be a single encounter, she didn’t regret anything that had happened between them. Quite the opposite…

  Later that evening, after all of the official functions had been dispensed with, the two found themselves back in each other’s arms and then back in Darracott’s bed. Both of them sensed that this was not just a physical attraction, but the beginnings of a spiritual bond. Darracott frequently reminded herself that nothing ever stayed the same for long, and sometimes that was a good thing. Loneliness could end. Confusion could clear. Having someone else could be a lens through which to focus life.

  The last day of the trip, they left the planet to visit Gideon Universal’s recently opened shipyard, the Odessa Space Works. Over four thousand of her brothers and sisters worked on the orbital facility, with more employed in planetside support factories. Gideon walked at her side, eagerly explaining all that she asked about and more too. He was like a proud father showing off his family. She and Karl posed for pictures with workers, ate lunch in the commissary, and met with the management team.

  At the end of the day, her shuttle carried her and the travel party back to the battleship Marpesia, which would deliver them safely home. She already sensed that Merritt approved of Karl Gideon, but she wondered what Bennett Boyer would think—and then there was Ardith Flood. Renata Darracott was forty-one years old and the leader of an entire starhold. It shouldn’t matter what those people thought—except that it did. They were the nearest thing she had to a family, so it mattered to her very much.

  Going back to Esterkeep meant going back to the reality of governing. It meant going back to the war, to the budget deficit, to the opposition of the Reformists, and to nebulous threats her spies couldn’t seem to track down. But she was returning to the capital with a rejuvenated heart and newfound strength. The Union was calling, and she would answer.

  14: Chimera

  City of Beresford

  Planet Gerrha

  Commonwealth homeworld

  Hanley Pascoe walked through the hallways of the Gerrhan Intelligence headquarters. It was always a busy place and even busier these days with the war that was NOT raging. Admiral Choi had been victorious at the Second Battle of Earth four weeks ago, or at least that was the government’s version of events. There had been a trivial raid by the Union into an insignificant Commonwealth mining system, but other than that—nothing. The Nets were already calling it the “Phony War.”

  Pascoe knew phony when he saw it, and he saw it each morning in the mirror. At one time, he had been a rising star in the Gerrhan intel community, but now at age fifty-one, his career—and life—had stalled out. He had gone as far in the organization as he was ever going to go. Pascoe had a wife who hated him and a son who hated them both. A dead end job in a dead end life. That’s what his coworkers saw—run down, woeful Hanley Pascoe. But like this war, he too was false. He wasn’t the loser everyone pegged him to be. He had discovered a cure for all that ailed him, and her name was Eden.

  It was an accidental meeting, on the metro of all places. She had dropped her purse, and he helped her gather her things. They started talking, and before she got off at her station, she slipped him her card and told him to come around. Even with a marriage that had long been on the rocks, he had never cheated before, but he couldn’t get this woman out of his mind.

  Three evenings later, he went around to her place just to say hello—not really knowing what he expected to come of the visit. They talked for a while and had a few drinks, and before he knew it, they were in her bedroom having the most memorable night of his mundane life. She wasn’t a prostitute, more of a courtesan. Eden described herself as a “Lady of Pleasures,” and even beyond her skills in lovemaking, the greatest pleasure was her company. She was witty and charming and appreciated him simply for being himself. It was expensive, but he went back the next week—and the next.

  Gradually, a miracle happened. For the only time in his life, the Gods had actually smiled upon him. He and Eden fell in love. She was beautiful but lonely, and he filled a niche in her life that no one else had. Perhaps he was a father figure, or maybe his innocence made him endearing.

  They gravitated out of her bedroom into dinner clubs and trendy bars. She took him places and introduced him to important people. She showed him a side of life that he had always wanted to see but was too afraid to reach for. With her on his arm, he felt like a colossus.

  Then it all came crashing down—at least it seemed so.

  Pascoe’s train of thought was interrupted as he entered the office of his supervisor. John Geldart was fifteen years Pascoe’s junior and had enough arrogance for three men. This should have been Pascoe’s job, but Geldart had swooped in with family connections in his pocket and filched the position away.

  “There you are, Pascoe. We had about given up on you,” Geldart sighed. The man seemed to moan every word he spoke. “What’s the latest on Admiral Choi’s prize?”

  In front of Geldart’s desk was the admiral herself, sitting cross-legged and confident, a slight smirk on her face as she waited to hear him speak. Next to her was an empty chair, one that Pascoe had not been invited to use.

  “Ah, well, Dr. Acree is going to be fine,” Pascoe began. “He is resting comfortably. The doctors tell me they are treating the infection and he will feel better in a few days.” Acree had been wounded during the kidnapping a month ago and developed a lingering infection which the shipboard medics had not been able to clear up during the transit to Gerrha. “I’m told that because he is from the Otherverse there are slight differences in his physiology as opposed to our own. He simply needed medicines they didn’t have on the ship.”

  “Excellent news,” said Choi. “I’d hate to think we went to all that trouble to bring back a dead man. And this facility where Acree is being treated, I assume it is secure?”

  Pascoe nodded and tried to muster a smile. “Yes, ma’am. I’d stake my life on it.”

  Geldart chuckled. “Well, let’s try to aim a little higher than that, shall we?” His superior was amused by his own wit, but Choi didn’t seem as entertained.

  “Before the good doctor is of any use to us, he must be well,” said Geldart in his tired drawl.

  Choi frowned. “The sooner we extract information from Acree the better. I don’t relish the idea of dancing with Union cruisers again without shields of my own.”

  A smug expression came to Geldart’s face. “Admiral, this so-called war is over. We have Acree, and the Union doesn’t have the stomach for a fight.”

  “You think not?” asked
Choi. “If that is the case Mr. Geldart, the Commonwealth should immediately attack on all fronts.”

  “Why so?”

  “Because you never allow a frightened animal time to gather its courage.”

  Noticing that Pascoe was still there, Geldart gave him a nod. “Keep me posted.” When he didn’t move, the intelligence chief waved the back of his hand toward the doorway. “You may go now, Pascoe. Leave us.”

  Retreating from Geldart’s office, his thoughts turned to Eden again, as they so often did. A high-priced courtesan who had fallen for him—he should have known it was too good to be true. Once the questions started, he understood. Pascoe wasn’t even sure how much information he’d given away before catching on, but he had definitely said too much. Even after realizing what had happened, he still answered her questions. He wanted to please her so very much. Who the hell did he owe allegiance to at work—Geldart?

  So there it was. If he turned Eden in as a spy, he also turned himself in as a traitor. And she still swore she loved him. He knew she was lying, but what if she wasn’t. Eden Southwell was the most exciting thing that had ever happened to him in his otherwise dreary life. Could he afford to throw it all away for—well, for what? A prison term or maybe even a death sentence?

  She said her stay on Gerrha was almost over and that the two of them would go away together. They would leave and go to Galba, or perhaps Essadon. Eden had connections. She knew people, people who could give him a new identity. He would start over and live the life of his dreams instead of his nightmares, which is what he had now.

  Pascoe was going to see her again this evening. They would have dinner and a few drinks, and she would make him feel alive. A few state secrets were a small price to pay for paradise.

  * * * *

  In her stateroom aboard Morrigan, Brin Choi had just finished dinner. She was glancing through a report that had been hand delivered to her by the man standing in front of her desk. Major Seydoux was well known as Choi’s principal enforcer, both in his official role as commander of her flagship’s Marine detachment and for his many deeds performed for her off the books.

  “We need to keep this to ourselves, Major. The less anyone knows about it, the better.”

  “Very well, ma’am,” the Marine acknowledged.

  The door chime had barely sounded as Captain Ferraz ambled into the admiral’s quarters. The smile on his face disappeared at the sight of Seydoux. Massimo and the major had never gotten along, and Ferraz was less than thrilled that Seydoux was still in her command.

  “Why don’t you come in, Captain,” said Choi in a mocking voice, since Ferraz was already inside.

  The captain clasped his hands behind his body and assumed a stand-easy posture. “Sorry, ma’am. I didn’t realize you had a visitor.”

  “He was just leaving. Thank you, Major. We will deal with this matter later. You are dismissed.”

  Seydoux bowed his head, turned, and walked to the door, passing close to Ferraz on his way out.

  “That man definitely doesn’t like me,” said Ferraz as he relaxed, leaning against Choi’s desk. “Are you sure you two never slept together?”

  “This again!” she said with exasperation. “Massimo, I assume you’re here for a reason.”

  “Orders from our masters,” he smiled affably, handing her a datatab. “For the time being, our humble squadron is to provide security for the Halcyon Starport and commercial traffic in said vicinity.”

  “Oh, for the love of the Gods! The Admiralty must expect a Union raid on the baggage carousels.” Tossing the datatab to the desktop, Choi leaned back in her chair and propped her feet up. “In my previous life, when I was a Union battleship captain, I thought Central Command was full of idiots.”

  “And then you were promoted, and you got to be one of them yourself,” Ferraz joked.

  Choi brushed his comment aside. “Say what you will, Victor, Channa, and I cleaned up that place. Now, here I am on the other side, and I’m beginning to understand just how screwed up the Gerrhan leadership is. They’re just sitting around with their thumbs up their butts. This doctrine of using almost every asset on defensive posturing, it’s a recipe for disaster.”

  Ferraz was fidgeting with items on her desk, moving around stylists, pads, and the like. “So, and I’m being serious here, if you were in charge…”

  Her eyes gleamed. She quickly removed her feet from the desk and leaned forward, speaking intently. “These people are kidding themselves if they think this war is just going to blow over. Maxon and Darracott are hawks, not doves. They’re going to attack—and soon.”

  Ferraz nodded agreement. “But where?”

  “I know Channa,” she said, pausing on the thought that Ferraz might make a joke by saying something like ‘intimately,’ but he didn’t. “Maxon will attack the Pallas system and try to capture the planet Haojing.”

  Mentally consulting the starmap in his head, Ferraz stroked his goatee. “Historically, Dijana is the most contested system between the two starholds. Why Pallas? Why not Dijana?”

  “Because there is a direct hypergate link between Dijana and Eupraxa. We could reinforce the Dijana system too easily. No, when the hammer falls, it will be at Pallas. There’s nothing subtle about Channa Maxon—she’ll pick the nearest star system and attack in force.”

  “But what if Maxon’s not planning the operation? What if it’s Carson or Schooler?”

  Choi’s hand waved in a contemptuous gesture. “Carson’s nothing more than a desk jockey, and Jon Schooler is a tepid old man.”

  Ferraz moved around the desk, next to Choi. “Boss, permission to speak freely—and personally.”

  This was not the usual, carefree Ferraz. Choi nodded but wasn’t sure she was going to care for what he had to say.

  “Brin, baby—let’s get the hell out of here. You don’t owe the Gerrhans anything. Let’s take this ship and our people and head to—I don’t know—to Jangsu or Anthedon. I’ve got a bad feeling about this whole mess. What do you say?”

  “That’s your answer to everything, isn’t it—running away,” she blurted out. “Besides, it would be desertion. Then again, you have experience in that area, don’t you?”

  Ferraz gave a slight frown and stood, raising his hands over his head in mock surrender. “I just thought… Hell, I don’t know what I thought.”

  He turned to leave, and Choi realized she had blundered. She had gone too far, been too cruel. Jumping out of her chair, she grabbed him, placing her arms around him.

  “Massimo. I’m sorry, that was unfair.”

  Shocked, he gently returned her embrace. “Brin, you know this is the first time I’ve ever heard you say you were sorry about anything.” She hugged him tighter and hastily kissed him on the mouth.

  “I need to stay,” she said. “My destiny lies here, I’m sure of it, and I want you to stay with me. I need you.”

  Ferraz was visibly moved and likely confused as well. He had never seen this type of insecurity from the implacable woman he loved.

  “I won’t leave you again,” he said. “But I don’t see how you’re going to find your destiny babysitting a bunch of civilians at a starport.”

  She looked at him, and her expression changed again, back to the hard and cunning woman he knew so well. “Leave that to me. I think I’ve found some leverage I can use—I just need to figure out how best to use it.”

  15: Beresford

  During the two-week starliner trip, Carr and Sanchez dutifully memorized the details of their cover stories and passed through customs at the Greater Beresford Spaceport as Paul Groom and his sister Maya. The Grooms were Galbanese nationals on a business trip to the Gerrhan capital. Several kiosks away, Lucky Maldonado and Julian used their false personas to slide into the starhold without incident as well. Carr held that the customs agents and bureaucrats here looked and acted just as catatonic as their counterparts on Cardea—minus the bribes.

  That was the only resemblance to Cardea however. As they ro
de the tramway to the city center, Carr and Sanchez observed a modern, vibrant metropolitan complex. Skyscrapers rose toward the clouds with even taller buildings being erected at their side. A bullet train whipped past their tram and disappeared into a tunnel while another emerged going in the opposite direction. The city skyline was a testament to humankind’s endurance nearly three hundred years after leaving Earth.

  In downtown Beresford, most people wore fashionable attire and carried cutting-edge personal electronics. Sidewalks and overhead pedestrian bridges were packed with people going to and fro. Sanchez told Carr later that she was struck by how pleased most people appeared as they went about their everyday lives. A galactic war, or any kind of worry for that matter, seemed to be the last thing on the minds of Gerrhan citizens.

  Police sky-platforms hovered over the city to monitor traffic and keep order. Surveillance cameras were everywhere. It was ironic that there seemed to be even more monitoring of citizens in this democracy than in the despotic society they had left a fortnight ago. Most of the security cams were undoubtedly tied into biometric tech programs, facial recognition software in particular. To deal with that threat, Carr and Sanchez wore special OMI issue necklaces that contained jamming devices. The jewelry essentially created a sensor blur around their face so that the software couldn’t match facial mapping with the files of known enemy agents. Most bioscanning was done by computer, so the chance of them being given away by an actual human looking at a monitor was remote.

  Maldonado’s Black Dove cousin had booked them into the Hotel Templeton, located in the city’s stylish Riverview District. After Mr. and Ms. Groom were shown to their suite, they broke out instruments to sweep for unwanted spy cams or listening bugs, a procedure that would regrettably have to be repeated each time they returned from being out of the hotel. The place was clean—for now.