The man thumped his chest with his fist. Fjallheim returned the salute. “What is it trooper?”
“Centurion Fjallheim, The President of Pan America is on base. You are ordered to collect all your cadets and return to the Academy at once!”
The surprise on Fjallheim’s face was apparent, but he said, “Thank you trooper, you are dismissed.” The news obviously gave Fjallheim cause for thought. He seemed to completely forget Alexander.
“Excuse me sir, am I to return to the troopship or find my way to the terminal?”
“What, oh Cadet Wolfe, you’re still here,” he snapped, breaking out of his reverie. He looked at Alexander and thought for another moment. Alexander stood waiting; he didn’t dare ask anything else. The clock in his head ticked on and on, and it took at least another two minutes before Fjallheim reached whatever conclusion he needed to reach.
He went back to the hologram and pulled out the blaster. “Computer, continue simulation.” Fjallheim shot the Terran woman, finishing her off with brutal efficiency; however, the wounded Seer’koh was another matter. The saurian writhed in agony, crying out with a weird rattling scream—it struck Alexander forcefully—he’d heard that very scream before. Fjallheim tried to strike the head, but only succeeded in getting a glancing shot, burning the side of the neck and skull. The Seer’koh continued to scream. The centurion shook his head and put another blaster shot in the Seer’koh’s belly, causing such massive damage that the being instantly went into shock and died.
The centurion announced aloud, as if to himself, “They couldn’t have been killed inside Luna Base. The computer security protocols would have alerted base personal to the blaster shots. It’s also apparent that they were not shot with a single blaster or even two—that can only mean one thing, they weren’t shot with a blaster.”
He looked Alexander’s way as if finally remembering that he was there. Holstering the weapon, he ordered the computer to end the simulation and walked around the desk. He put his hand on Alexander’s shoulder, but again he stopped, looking at the data display on his sleeve. “You’re going to come with me cadet. There, now let’s collect Cadet Khandar. We don’t want to be here when the Presidential party comes through; it’s a veritable zoo!”
Alexander followed the centurion out of the room. After the delay, Fjallheim was now in a great hurry. Without so much as an explanation, he yanked Khandar out of his interrogation room and hustled the cadets toward the airlock. Halfway there, by Alexander’s guess, they rounded a corner and were face to face with a tall dusky skinned Terran in a dark suit. He was surrounded by an entourage of other suits, escorted by the lunar base Commander and followed by a squad of Praetorian legionaries—the elite of the legions. The Commander’s face went beet red at the sight of Fjallheim and the cadets.
“Ten-shun!” barked centurion Fjallheim, flattening himself against the wall. Alexander leapt across the floor to do the same and Khandar followed suit.
The President stopped, looking at the centurion and the cadets with a mixture of curiosity and surprise. “I thought all corridors were supposed to be clear of personal?”
“That was the order Mr. President,” the Commander replied, and he turned his wrath on Fjallheim. The centurion explained very quickly but very stoically that they were just informed of the President’s arrival, and he’d terminated interrogations to follow orders.
“Interrogating cadets, that’s a bit superfluous isn’t it,” the President asked. “After all, what can cadets do that’s so awful?”
“They didn’t do anything sir,” Centurion Fjallheim informed him. “They did however discover three bodies on the lunar surface. We are investigating.”
“Ambassador Skreen and two of our people were found murdered sir,” the Base Commander told the President. “We are investigating. Centurion Fjallheim was asked to interrogate his cadets and pass the information on to us.” The commander glared at Fjallheim. “Centurion Fjallheim was supposed to be on his way to the troopship by now.”
The President waved off any further explanation and stepped up to Alexander and Khandar. “This is a serious way to begin your careers,” he said gravely, asking them to introduce themselves. When they did so, the President’s brows rose in surprise. “Your father is Lyle Wolfe and your father was Demetrios Khandar?” When they nodded that was true, the President shook his head and laughed. “It’s a wonder you haven’t killed each other yet! General, make a note, I’d like to be informed when something serious happens between these two—it should be amusing!”
“Yes sir!”
Alexander took an instant dislike to the President and he could feel Khandar seething next to him. That made him feel better; Khandar was finally angry at someone else! The President turned away, and it was as if he forgot they existed at all. He and his entourage continued on. When they were gone, Fjallheim said, “You two will find no safety in anonymity; in fact, there’s no safety anywhere. We’re all going to be forced to choose between tradition and change. Remember this, you two especially,” his eyes almost disappeared beneath his red brows, that’s how serious he looked. Alexander listened intently. “You two are the icons for tradition whether you like it or not. Tradition has its place; it’s kept the Empire, and even the empires of our Galactic brethren going under the worst of circumstances. Yet there are some, this President included, who would use this crisis to impose change—be on your guard! Neither of you will have the choice of anonymity; you are too important!”
As they marched to the troopship, Alexander had a lot to think about. He didn’t understand why he was so important, but again it appeared to have something to do with his father and Khandar’s father. He exchanged several glances with Khandar. The Golkos was hard to read, but he was obviously thinking about things as well. When they arrived at the troopship, they split up
Alexander relayed all that happened to Treya, James and Lisa. It was obvious to all of them that Professor Strauss was the prime suspect in the murders, but there was no explanation for Centurion Fjallheim. Lisa voiced their collective thought when she asked, “Why did he show you all the stuff about the murder; then he delayed you so that you were certain to run into the President. It’s as if he wants you to look into this. Why, we’re cadets; we can’t do anything!”
By the time they’d gotten that far the troopship reached the Academy, but instead of docking, Centurion Fjallheim informed them, “There will be a two hour delay before we can dock because the Presidential flotilla is enroute to the Academy. We’ve been told to orbit out of the security zone. However, in order not to waste any time, I’ve established a datalink with the library computers. You may access your study files through your suits. I suggest you use the time wisely!”
There was a collective groan as the cadets returned to their studies. Alexander did the same, but he’d no sooner connected to his library database than he saw Katrina pop up on the etherlink.
“Alexander, it’s a good thing I got a hold of you! You’ll never believe what’s happening down here!”
“I’ve got news too, and I’ve got to get you to contact my dad; I need to talk to him somehow!”
“That’s going to be hard,” she told him, her pretty face turning into a frown. “They’ve quarantined the entire island, and there are security units patrolling a perimeter around our family’s houses—all of our families, mine, yours, Lisa’s and even James house.”
Alexander waved the others over and told them what Katrina said. Their faces were glued to the small etherlink screen embedded in the suit on Alexander’s wrist. “What’s up with that, why should they be watching our houses? We’re just cadets!” He assumed they were the source of the government surveillance, but Katrina shook her head and told him otherwise.
“It’s not about us, at least not entirely,” she said sadly, and then she took a deep breath. “We’re not just cadets, or at least you’re not—I screwed up with my big mouth—I was supposed to be at the Academy this year, just like you are supposed
to be there now.”
“You mean this was rigged,” James asked, his own questions as to why he was there in the first place finally being answered. Then he shook his head violently. “Wait a minute, I can see the Feds watching Alexander’s house,” he shrugged when Alexander looked at him, “hey, everyone knows your dad was a Spook — that’s cool. Why my house though, my dad’s a drunk. He’s not even a Citizen.”
Katrina took a deep breath and her expression grew deadly serious. “There’s a reason our families moved on to Vashon; each of our fathers, and James your mother, served together in the Special Forces. We all qualified for the Academy on our own, but because we were the kids of some very special military people strings were pulled. It seems that was done behind the backs of those in this conspiracy, but that’s why you guys have been watched by Strauss, Nussbaum and especially Fjallheim!”
“Fjallheim,” Alexander gasped. “You can’t be serious.”
Katrina took a deep breath and told them, “Listen closely, it seems amazing that Strauss and Nussbaum could be professors at any university, not to mention the Academy of all places. You would think that terrorists—neither has ever renounced their actions or views—you’d think terrorists would be barred from teaching positions. Normally that would be true, but Strauss and Nussbaum are political appointees. The appointments were made the former Senator in charge of the Armed Services Committee, Senator Cass Bar-Judas.”
“You mean the President?” They were astonished.
“Yes, but there’s more,” Katrina said. “You need to be careful, because the Senator was also sponsored another important person in the Academy: Centurion Fjallheim.”
Alexander turned white and the others gasped. This was terrible, terrible news. Katrina filled their stunned silence, explaining, “The media actively suppressed the fact that President Bar-Judas’s father was a Gaiaist and his mother was affiliated with Ecoterrorist groups—that’s because the media is sympathetic to those causes and is not very cozy with the Legions, the Fleet or the Constitutionalists that seek to carry out Alexander of Terra’s vision for the future. Of course, the President is against that. He and his cronies have a very different view of our future, and that’s why he has his people planted in the Academy. There’s no way he can force his vision of the galaxy on the population if he can’t control the military, and that starts at the Academy. With Strauss and Nussbaum indoctrinating generations of officers to be sympathetic to the Gaian cause and Centurion Fjallheim to manipulate the legionary muscle the President has enough cover to move forward.”
Alexander cradled his head. He couldn’t believe it. “Fjallheim just warned me to watch my back; he tried to help me and Khandar after we discovered that the people working with Strauss on the Methuselan Circuit had been murdered.”
“Hold on,” Katrina exclaimed, and she touched her ear, looking away for the moment. When she looked back, she asked, “Were they two Terrans—a man and a woman—and a Seer’koh?”
Alexander nodded.
Katrina’s face fell and she listened again to some unheard voice. She explained, “The woman and the Seer’koh were our people and the man was an FBI agent who is a well respected Constitutionalist. They were the good guys. Fjallheim must’ve taken care of them because they wanted to remove the Methuselan Circuit from the ship and get it to Terra where it would be harmless.”
“Fjallheim killed them, are you sure?”
Again Katrina listened to something in her ear—obviously someone didn’t want to be seen or heard on the etherlink. She nodded her head. “Fjallheim’s the only one we know of with the technical skill to take out our two agents. They were very experienced. Unless, do you know of anyone else there that might be working with Nussbaum and Strauss? Think, because we don’t know everyone at the Academy as well as we’d like too.”
“Augesburcke,” Alexander offered, fearing the answer.
Katrina shook her head immediately, and told them, “If Augesburcke is a mole we might as well fold up the tent—we’re done. He’s the one who pulled the strings to get you into the Academy.”
“Centurion Fjallheim mentioned that Lt. Mortimer was working closely with Professor Strauss.”
Katrina listened to something in her ear and shook her head, “We don’t have much on her; but there’s no history in her files of any contact with radicals. It’s a smokescreen; it has to be Fjallheim.”
James interrupted, whispering, “What is this about the Methuselan Circuit. Why is it so blasted important—what is it?”
“I don’t know,” Katrina said. “Alexander you have a series of data files encrypted in the crystals of your Rosary. The first “Our Father” opens the file on the Methuselan Circuit. The next three “Hail Mary’s” open data files for you three.”
“How are we going to watch them with Fjallheim creeping over our shoulder,” James interrupted.
“Don’t worry, they’re encrypted. You can play them out in the open and anyone outside of a three foot radius will only see a harmless documentary of the Caliphate Wars. That’s because the true content is woven into the signal and two holograms are actually projected,” she stopped, touching her ear and sighed, saying, “sorry, I just get so fascinated by this stuff! Anyway, watch the files in order. They will clarify everything except how they’re going to trigger the Methuselan Circuit and how you’re going to stop it.”
They all looked at each other. “What do you mean how we’re going to stop it?”
“That’s why you’re there,” Katrina said seriously.
“We’re going to stop this Galactic conspiracy,” Alexander asked, and he couldn’t help but smile at the idea. The others laughed nervously.
“We have no other choice. Your father wants you to make contact with Khandar’s son, he has specific information on the circuit, information his father entrusted to him. Your father knows what the Methuselan Circuit is and what the Methuselans used it for, but Khandar knew how to destroy it—that’s the information you need to get—you need to stop it.”
Alexander looked at the others and shook his head. “Khandar will never give me the information,” he told her seriously. “He wants me dead; he thinks my father assassinated his father—he’s sworn a blood oath on it.”
“It’s true,” Katrina said evenly. “I’m sorry Alexander, but your father did assassinate the Grand Admiral.” She stopped, because Alexander’s heart fell; everyone could see that. Quickly, she told him, “I know this is tough on you, but the Special Forces are a necessary part of the Service. Your father wasn’t a rogue like Khandar suspects. The assassination orders originate from the Pro Consul’s Chamber; you’re father was following orders, but there’s more to it—watch the data files!” She hesitated, waiting for the shock to run its course. Alexander felt his breath bind up in his lungs, encasing him in a constricting band of doubt. James laid a hand on his shoulder. Treya took his hand. Alexander straightened up, trying to get a hold of himself, controlling his emotions as his father taught him to—his father the assassin. When he looked back at Katrina, she said, “Watch them and read the attached combat report; I can’t say any more. Study them closely—that’s all your father told me.” She paused and took a deep breath. “Alexander, I am sorry.”
“You’re sorry, but was he? Did he seem sorry about it at all?”
“He told me you would have a hard time hearing this,” Katrina started to say, but James swiftly covered Alexander’s ethernet screen, explaining with a single harsh word, “Fjallheim!”
It was the Centurion, and he didn’t look happy. “What is it that you are covering up, Cadet Jameson?” He took his meaty hand and yanked James’s hand away from the screen, staring down at it with the knit brows peculiar to the centurion class. He frowned. “Watching Z-Crosse matches when you should be studying?”
Alexander stared at his screen. Sure enough it was a college Z-Crosser match. He looked back up at Fjallheim, and explained, “Sir, we all need pointers, especially me.”
; “I see,” the centurion glowered. He stared at them for a long, long moment before saying, “You all appear to be involved in every bit of trouble at this Academy. I would think that after today’s little adventure you would take a bit more care about highlighting yourselves—all of you. I’ll be watching you; be assured of that.” He turned on his heel and went over to harangue another group of cadets.
“That was close,” James whispered. “How’d you get the game on there; that was quick thinking!”
“I didn’t,” Alexander admitted. “That must’ve been Katrina.” He sighed and looked at all of them, admitting, “I don’t know about you but I’m still frazzled about all of this.”
“At least we know why we’re all here,” Lisa said.
“And we know what we have to do,” Treya added.
James shook his head, “How are we supposed to stop this Conspiracy? I mean, let’s be real. If the Commandant of the Academy can’t do anything about it, what can we do? We’re just cadets!”
Alexander shrugged, and said, “My dad’s favorite book was a fantasy called, The Lord of the Rings. In it, all the great warriors and wizards of men, elves, dwarves couldn’t bring down the enemy—but a couple of small, weak and insignificant hobbits did it. They succeeded because they persevered and because the enemy didn’t consider them a threat.”
The Methuselan Circuit Page 20