by P J Strebor
She brushed a thick curl from her face. “I’m fine, big brother. How did you know to – ”
“Not now, Lucilla,” Bernie interrupted. “Help me in the kitchen.’
Nathan glanced in Livy's direction to convince himself she really was all right. Her reassuring smile calmed his concerns as he moved to the men.
"Where's your precious Monitor Corps when we need them?" Lewis’ sarcasm resounded the instant Nathan removed the gag.
"For that comment, you can wait your turn." Nathan by-passed him and released Caleb.
"Leave it, Lewis," Caleb barked. To Nathan he said, “You took you time getting here.” He winked at Nathan.
Nathan reassessed the situation. Satisfied his family was safe, he wrapped his arms snuggly around Livy. “I’m so sorry this happened,” he said. “It’s my fault.”
Livy’s mouth dropped open. “How could this possibly be your fault? Don’t be silly.”
"My fault,” he mumbled. No way can I tell her. It would put her in danger far worse than today. This raid was obviously after me. I brought this down upon my family.
The crash of Abner bursting into the room frightened Lewis so badly he tried to jump out of his bindings.
Tall and broad, Abner's weathered face and thick blonde hair reflected the setting sun. His alert brown eyes scanned the room, the huge hunting rifle tracking his movements.
"Any more?"
“There’s a couple out back, and two on the parapet. They’ve attacked their last homestead.” Nathan glared at his stepbrother. “To answer your stupid question, Lewy," Nathan said, "may I present to you, Sergeant Abner Lawrence, Monitor Corps Marine Special Forces, retired."
Abner's mock salute acknowledged Nathan’s grin. Caleb slapped his old friend on the shoulder. For a few seconds he stared at Red’s prone form before making his assessment.
"Nice shot."
"A smidgen high."
“Is anyone going to free me?” Lewis whined.
Caleb and Abner exchanged a silent contact. With his enormous hunting knife Abner released Lewis.
Exhaustion overwhelmed Nathan and he slumped onto the floor, pillowing his head on Livy’s knee. To the former marine Nathan asked, "How did you get here so fast?"
"Ran into Moe." Abner had always economical with words.
Bernie and Lucy returned from the kitchen with pitchers of ice-cold, homemade lemonade. After hours of sitting in the room with gags in their mouths everyone drank thankfully. Nathan quaffed the last of the pitcher’s contents in a single gulp.
“Nathan, I’m dying to know,” Lucy said. “How did you know to drop, so Abner could shoot that bastard?"
"An old hunting trick. Taught to me by a cunning, albeit ancient, hunter."
Abner snorted.
Behind his smile guilt gnawed at Nathan. At that moment a cold hand touched his heart. This had been the third attack on the property in the last two years, each one coinciding with Nathan’s return from school. Today's raid was too professional for scavengers to plan and execute. Someone has discovered my secret. Will they ever relent?
CHAPTER 18
Time: 5th June, 316 (ASC).
Position: The capital city of Athens, planet Attica. Athenian Republic.
Livy stepped into the early spring sunshine outside the Athenian Central Arts Center. She stopped by the statue of Athens first president Julia Beresford and read the bronze plaque: Where Athens leads others follow. A little arrogant but historically accurate. As the first to colonize the space-locked region of the galaxy known as the Tunguska Fault it was natural that those who followed the first fleet into the region would adopt similar views and look to the senior member for guidance. So it had been for three hundred years.
Her first months at teacher’s college had been remarkable. Although she missed Nathan terribly the pace of life within the Athenian capital helped to –
“Olivia?” The shrill voice cut through the lazy afternoon like a trumpet. “Olivia Marshall?”
A trio of identically clad young stylists congregated in a tight group at the bottom of the steps, bouncing on the toes of their elegantly styled shoes. For several moments Livy did not recognize the young women but smiled indulgently as she continued toward them.
“Olivia, do you not remember me?” The young woman answered her own question before Livy could respond. “Mona. Mona von Steer.” She rushed forward to touch cheeks.
Livy trimmed the speaker’s weight by fifteen kilos and dressed her in the uniform of a senior at the Anastasia Kimbrough Academy for Young Ladies.
“Mona! I hardly recognized you. How are you?”
“Why I am just peachy my darling,” she squawked. “And look at you. All brown and … oh my, look at what you are wearing. What did those monsters out in the colonies do to you? You have lost so much weight you poor darling,” she said in mock sympathy.
The other young women Livy remembered as Chelsea and Philippa. They continued to bounce excitedly on the toes of their expensive shoes. Their incessant squealing augmented their childish behavior. The group of effervescent jellybeans wore matching outfits; undoubtedly the latest in Athenian fashion for young ladies of elevated social means.
“Oh this is so wonderful,” Mona gushed. “Now that you are back from the horrors of the colonies the four of us can pick up where we left off.”
Not even if hell freezes over.
“Remember what we used to call ourselves, Olivia?” As usual Chelsea answered her own question. “The four princesses of AKA.” This triggered another round of high-pitched squealing from the trio. Their behavior began to attract attention from the passing patrons.
“Come along my darling,” Mona said, “we’ve slummed enough for one day. Let us find somewhere a little less … um, common than this refuge for the masses. I know this darling little bistro that just opened and I am dying to catch up with you, sweetness.”
“Well that would be nice Mona,” Livy lied, “but I have work to do.”
“Work!” Philippa squealed. “Work?”
“Oh, do not listen to her,” Chelsea yelled. “She is joking with us.”
“Well, no, actually I do have a lot…”
“The only work for us,” Philippa said, “is to have fun and spend as much of our parent’s money as we can.” A three-bar giggling chorus ensued.
Livy struggled to control her rising exasperation.
“As a matter of fact, I’ve a lot of work waiting for me. I took the afternoon off to see the exhibition but now I’ve got to make up for it.”
“Oh my, you have developed one of those awful colonial accents, have you not?” Mona squealed. “Oh, how divine. You never know, you just might start a new trend amongst the better people in town.” The asinine trio giggled at the prospect. “Come along darling, go home and change into something civilized. We will all meet for lunch. Time for you to stop slumming, sweetness.”
Livy agreed to meet with them later and they cheerfully believed her. If her time on Kastoria had taught Livy anything it was how to survive in a hostile environment.
Thank goodness those blue-bloods did not represent the average Athenian. There were eight ‘Republicans’ in her classes. Yes, they would proudly boast that their ancestors arrived on the First Fleet, and yes, their abhorrence of contractions was annoying, but they were decent, hard working people, polar opposites of that trio of disingenuous simpletons. Their scrupulous honesty was another aspect to deal with.
Nine generations of Athenians had lived under the influence of the AVU, which resulted in the creation of a thoroughly honest and polite society. The Aletheia Verification Unit, Athens’ unbeatable lie detector, governed not only the political apparatus of the Republic but everyday life. The AVU, used exclusively within the borders of the Athenian Republic, gave false credence to outsiders’ notion that Athenians were incapable lying. At its best interpretation that view was an extreme exaggeration.
Livy boarde
d the Bay Commuter for the journey to the other side of Beresford Bay. The abrupt reminder of who she had once been, before discovering the intrinsic Livy hidden behind the pretense, prompted a surge of gratitude. And it all started on Kastoria.
Livy could not remember a time when she felt happier. The friends she had made on Kastoria were friends for life and her enemies few, the enmity short-lived.
Livy debarked from the commuter and walked toward her apartment.
A smile touched her lips. She held no doubts that Nathan loved her. At first his inability to say I love you annoyed the hell out of her. These days she loved to watch his face as he painfully and unsuccessfully struggled to express his feelings with that one simple word.
Livy recognized that his natural reticence coupled with occasional mood swings were Nathan’s way of dealing with a tragic past. He was adamant from day one that his past was a closed and locked book. If she persisted he tapped the bump above his right eyebrow to confirm his loss of memory.
When Livy entered her small apartment she strode to the computer. The red message received light flashed. She tapped the play button to activate the holo screen. It showed straight text rather than an audio-visual presentation. Nathan preferred the intimacy that hid within the detail of the written word.
I wonder what unbelievable nonsense he'll expect me to believe today?
My darling Livy,
Life at the academy is so much more than just another resort vacation. The friendly and attentive staff cater to the every whim of their guests twenty-four hours a day. No request is too much trouble for them and they bend over backwards to see that each plebe feels as if the academy has been created just for them. The cuisine is extraordinary with three courses per day of something no recruit will ever forget.
We are in the best physical condition of our lives thanks to the kindly, soft-spoken physical education instructors and the dietary geniuses who spare not a moment of their precious time to seek out the odd kilogram of unhealthy flab and attack it with gusto. Health spas throughout the Republic cringe in shame when they attempt to measure their successes against the academy’s robust program.
Livy broke from the text laughing. “Oh Nathan, you rascal.”
Yes my darling, life at the academy isn’t anything like the horrors you may have heard about. The personnel here are so in tune with our needs they know what we need before we think of it ourselves.
The upperclassmen are kindly and attentive to our every need and nothing is too much trouble for them. Yes, life at the academy is just full of such surprises.
Well, I hear the dinner bell ringing for one of chef’s cordon bleu specials so I must away. Moe says hello.
Missing you constantly
Nathan.
She giggled as she disengaged the screen. A year ago she would have believed everything he said without question. These days each of them read the words and the meanings between lines of text. When he returned there would be no awkward silences between them, only times when they had little to say and were simply content to be together.
Who was this young man who had captured her heart so completely? They still had battles ahead but Livy knew with absolute certainty they were destined to be together until death ripped them apart.
Livy took the hard copy picture of Nathan from the desk and hugged it against her heart. Another whole month until I see him again. Each day will seem like a month. Oh, but what a homecoming it will be.
CHAPTER 19
Time: 2nd August, 318 (ASC).
Position: Dryad freighter Maluku. Francorum Union.
Status: Approaching orbital insertion to the planet Saffron.
Orson took his first life at fourteen. He found the experience to be the most profoundly gratifying of his life. It just felt … right. One of his fellow trainees had shown an unhealthy regard for the so-called sanctity of human life. Orson demonstrated his first genuine flare for initiative when he snapped the weakling's neck. His callous act earned high kudos from his instructors and earmarked him as a student of note.
By the age of twenty-two he had established himself as an exceptionally promising Family Associate. Years of rigorous training in the high arts of death and covert operations had paid off. Now he wanted to do more, to prove himself more worthy, to achieve far more. He would never dare to voice his opinions to those he served. He owed everything to the Family.
This relatively straightforward mission was his first as a solo operative. The insidious product he smuggled into Francorum space would have a decidedly negative, long-term influence on their society. Still, he longed for the primary missions the Advocate’s undertook. For the time being he employed his talents into playing the role of Biers.
The most junior officer aboard Maluku, Lt David Biers had earned the reputation of being mister enthusiasm. By deliberate intent Biers made for the perfect disguise for someone of Orson’s true calling.
The real David Biers had been a minor obstacle on Orson’s path. Minimal computer alteration to Biers credentials and disposal of his body presented little difficulty.
For the last five months Orson had played the role of the eager young officer with sufficient dedication to impress a drama critic. He considered his performance deserving of an acting award, if one existed for those of his profession.
Orson inspected the cargo container’s customs seals one last time. The seals were expensive but well worth the cost.
Francorum customs officials had the most lackadaisical reputation in Tunguska. Getting a consignment through the entry port was easy, as long as the customs tags were sealed. In a worst-case scenario, bribery of Franc officials was possible.
Orson snapped from his thoughts as he rounded the corner to container Sierra seventeen. The seal had been broken then hastily stuck back in place. Repairing the damage presented little difficulty. He had a duplicate seal. He opened the container and checked the contents. All of the cylinders remained undisturbed, except for one on the lowest tier, which rested at an odd angle. After prying off the cap he checked the contents. Someone had tampered with the merchandise. A problem but not an insoluble one. After returning the cylinder he secured the container and tagged it with the spare seal.
Orson had a better than fair idea who had been sticking their nose into his business. Planetary insertion was minutes away and connection to the Orbital Space Dock within the hour. He needed to deal with this predicament quickly.
Orson sensed the presence of the other man well before he spoke.
“Everything all right, lieutenant?” The mocking tone of Demarti's voice confirmed Orson’s suspicions.
He was a typical example of a Dryadian crewmember. Overweight, unshaven and possessing a crude animal cunning. Demarti was too dense to fully comprehend how dangerous his game was. However, degenerates like Demarti usually responded to money.
“Do you know anything about this?” Orson held the torn seal before him.
“Maybe I do, maybe I don't.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning, I don't mind turning my back for the right price, but what you’ve got in that container deserves a second look at our deal.”
Orson nodded thoughtfully. If money would buy his cooperation then money it would be. He had prepared for such contingencies.
“How much did you have in mind?”
“Well now, let's see.” Demarti leaned casually against a container. “Considering the Francs have an open death penalty on the books for anyone smuggling drugs across their borders, I think double is fair.” He smirked and held his hands out to his sides. “Let's face it, lieutenant, with what you’ll make on this shipment of Kesium you can afford to be generous.”
The cretin had a point. However, Orson worked for a much higher authority to whom money was nothing but a means to an end. A fool like Demarti was incapable of fathoming such lofty aspirations.
Again, Orson nodded thoughtfully. “Very well, Demarti.” Orson employed his
weakest, most reasonable tone. “I would appreciate it if next time we make a deal you stick to it.”
The idiot grinned like a triumphant dog that retrieved a thrown ball and stubbornly refused to relinquish it. “Aye-aye, lieutenant.” His self-assured smile hardened, as did his tone. “But I want my money before I go ashore. Remember, I can get a sizeable reward from the Francs for identifying a drug trafficker. I make the same money and you get a speedy trial and a firing squad. So I get paid up-front.”
“I appear to have little choice in the matter.”
The Dryadian fool smirked again. As with numerous fools before him, Demarti had never seen Orson’s true face, his real intent. He saw what Orson wanted him to see. A young man from the outer colonies, naïve, fidgety and harmless. A novice with a ridiculously boyish face who simply wanted to make some quick money.
“Let's go to my quarters and take care of business.”
Demarti relaxed and made the mistake of turning his back. Orson struck a piercing blow to the base of the brain stem, snapping the vertebra connection to the brain. He dragged Demarti’s limp, lifeless body across the hold and dropped it headfirst down an access shaft. He hit the bottom of the five-meter drop with a satisfying crunch. Orson sucked in a deep, shuddering breath and forced the smile from his lips.
“Help,” Orson cried. “Somebody please help. Poor Demarti.”
CHAPTER 20
What we have to learn to do, we learn by doing. Aristotle (384-322 BC) Greek philosopher. Nicomachean Ethics (4th cent. BC).
Time: 5th April, 320 ASC
Position: Athenian Republic Extraterrestrial Naval Academy, Mount Kratos, Attican moon Peloponnesia, Athenian core system.
Status: Fourth year.
Nathan strode from the mess and reached Amelia Hall a few minutes later. Unlike the plebes, he had access to the lift, but chose to use the stairs taking them two at a time. Turning left at the fourth floor landing he walked along the corridor, stopping when he reached room 4/219. Nathan touched the call button. When the hatch slid open a midshipwoman snapped to attention.