Sullivan Saga 2: Sullivan's Wrath

by Michael K. Rose

  Kate smiled. “Yes. Rick has told me about you. You did a wonderful thing, standing up with the people during the war, General.”

  “Call me James. And I only did what I had to for the protection of the people. Please, sit. Would any of you like a drink?”

  Sullivan shook his head. “I really wish we had time for pleasantries, James, but we’re here on a rather serious matter.”

  Miller leaned back in his chair. “Tell me everything.”

  “Frank Allen is on Edaline. He would have arrived two days ago. We believe that he is under the influence of the hyperspace entities that I’ve told you about. We also believe that someone in Edaline’s military or government has taken the hyper-hyperspace technology from the ship that crashed during the war and put it into another ship. Frank is here for that ship.”

  Miller nodded. “What does he want with the ship?”

  “We don’t know yet. But if you know anything about it, I hope you would tell us.”

  Miller sighed. “I know the ship went missing. Someone salvaged it after the war. I don’t know what happened to it after that.”

  “So the military doesn’t have it?”

  “If we do, no one’s told me. I’d look to the civilian leadership, if I were you.”

  “Hall,” said Sullivan.

  “It does sound like something he’d do.”

  “How has he been working out?”

  Miller bit his lip and threaded his hands behind his head. “Prime Minister Hall is a highly skilled politician. He’s been working very hard to reform the government. In fact, he’s been working very hard to reform the government with himself at its center.”

  “I think we all knew that would happen. He’s not trying for a power grab, is he?”

  “You mean is he trying to take full control? No. He’s playing by the rules so far. A constitution has been written up, political parties have been formed, elections have been scheduled. I think he wants a free society more than he wants power. Well, maybe as much as he wants power. But whatever happens, Rick, I’ll make sure things never go back to the way they were.”

  Sullivan nodded. “Thank you, James. I’ve read about the situation here. Groups of loyalists still causing problems, gangs, high crime, homelessness, joblessness.”

  Miller sighed. “I’m doing my best to keep the loyalists and the criminals in check. As to the other things—the things that are causing much of the crime—soldiers can’t fight that. Service in the military is no longer mandatory, but I’ve been working to bring back some older men and women who’ve been mustered out. I’m trying to create as many jobs as I can, even if they’re only temporary. I’m only authorizing one-year contracts right now. Of course, a lot of people have been employed in cleaning up from the war and getting the infrastructure back up, but private manufacturing not related to that effort has stagnated. Commercial activity is at a minimum. The farms are working overtime, trying to produce as much food as possible to help feed those who are out of jobs. But it’s rough, Rick.”

  Sullivan sat in silence for a moment. “A war is only the beginning of the suffering. It continues on long after the fighting ends.”

  Miller shifted position in his chair and crossed his legs. “I know the people could use someone to look up to. You’re still considered a hero. Any chance you’d stay and help keep morale up?”

  Sullivan looked at Kate and smiled. “No, I’ve made a promise.”

  She smiled back.

  Miller nodded. “How about making a video for us, then? Urging people to support the government, to keep faith.”

  “I could do that.”

  “Thanks, Rick. That’d be a big help.”

  “Of course. But the first thing I need to do is try to get a meeting with Hall.”

  “Good luck with that. He even blows me off half the time, unless I tell him it’s urgent.”

  “Well, we have an ace up our sleeve.” Sullivan turned to Kate.

  She nodded. “That ship is property of my company. If Edaline’s government has it, they’ve stolen it.”

  General Miller smiled. “And I’m sure Hall knows that. Still, you’ll have to prove that he has it before you can threaten him with legal action. If there’s anything I can do to help, don’t hesitate to ask.” He opened a drawer in his desk, reached in and withdrew a card. “Here’s my direct line.”

  Sullivan took it as he stood then shook Miller’s hand again. “Thank you. We’ll be in touch.”

  CORPORAL JENSEN WAS sure it was him. He studied the face of the man as the visitors stepped back out of General Miller’s office then, waiting a few minutes until they had gone, casually pulled his tablet from his pocket.

  Richard Sullivan on planet. Just had meeting with Miller, he typed.

  A reply came a moment later. How long ago?

  Minutes.

  We’ll find him.

  Jensen glanced around the outer office to make sure no one was looking at him. There were other loyalists throughout Fort Hendricks. The word would be spread to them and, with luck, Sullivan could be tracked as he left the base.

  Jensen looked up as General Miller stepped to his open office door. Jensen nodded at Miller. Miller nodded back, scanned the room then closed the door behind him as he went back in.

  Jensen had been maneuvering for months to get a position on Miller’s personal staff. He was little more than a secretary, but he didn’t care. His position enabled him to keep the loyalists abreast of all of Miller’s movements. He had even been able to copy files and send them to his compatriots. So far none of those files had provided any intelligence that could be used against the new government, but eventually something valuable would come across Jensen’s desk. If and when that happened, he was prepared to sacrifice his life to get the information to the rightful leadership of Edaline.

  But Jensen wouldn’t blow his cover just yet. What he had seen today, the return of Richard Sullivan, was the most important development in months. Was it possible Sullivan was here to coordinate with General Miller? Was he going to lend his expertise to help bring down the loyalists? Even if he wasn’t, killing him could be the key to striking if not a tactical then at least a moral blow to those who had overthrown Edaline’s rightful government. If Sullivan could be killed or captured, it could reignite the fuse that had been snuffed out by the military’s raid on the loyalist’s weapons stockpile a month ago. Up until that point, they had hoped those weapons would soon be put to use. Now, insufficiently armed, any chance that the loyalists would be able to initiate an effective armed attack was gone. All they could do now was what they had been doing ever since the end of the war: make their presence known through small acts of sabotage and attempted assassinations.

  So far the sabotage had caused only minor problems for the government. The assassination attempts had been less successful. Not a single one of them had been carried out successfully, and three loyalists had been killed during the attempts. Another seven had been arrested.

  Worse, the support the loyalists hoped to receive from the civilian population hadn’t materialized. But taking care of Sullivan could change all that. He was more important as a symbol than as a leader, especially since he had left Edaline just after the war, but it was a powerful symbol. If both Sullivan and General Miller, perhaps even Prime Minister Hall, could all be killed within a short period of time, Jensen had no doubt that some of the people would rally to the loyalists’ cause. Jensen himself, with his proximity to Miller, was willing to take down the general. His superiors had hinted to him that he might be given such an assignment when the time was right.

  But it was out of his hands for now. All he could do was continue reporting on Miller and hope those higher up the chain of command would give him the opportunity to serve his planet.

  12

  SULLIVAN DIDN’T KNOW why he thought he would be able to find Allen by wandering the streets of Agrona, but he did it anyway. He felt helpless sitting in the hotel room, waiting for Prime Minister Hall�
�s office to return his calls.

  He eventually found himself in the neighborhood where he had grown up—so different now, after two wars—and found his old street. None of the building from his childhood still stood. They had all been destroyed during the first rebellion. But there was a small neighborhood park on the next street that was almost unchanged from when he’d frequented it as a child. Sullivan stood looking out at the swings, the slide, the basketball court, and imagining all the times his mother had stood in the very same spot, watching him play. He walked over to a bench and put his hand on the armrest. She’d sat here, too, leaning on the armrest, occasionally looking up from her tablet to smile at him.

  Sullivan eventually wandered away from his old neighborhood and made his way to Bingham Park, in the center of the city. He walked to the middle of the park where a rotunda stood and climbed the steps of the rotunda to look out across the grass.

  The late afternoon light cast long shadows across the lawn. Before the war, a day like this would have seen dozens of people out enjoying the park. Now Sullivan could spot just a single figure making its way up the path toward him. As he watched, the figure came nearer. It did not take to any of the side paths but kept on coming straight toward him, toward the rotunda.

  The man peered up at Sullivan from the base of the rotunda. Sullivan nodded, and the man returned the gesture before continuing on around the rotunda and making his way across the other side of the park.

  Sullivan was about to leave the rotunda when he heard a clipped yell. He turned to see the man besieged by four others. Sullivan ran down the steps and toward the group. They had encircled the man, and by the time Sullivan reached them, they had him on the ground and were kicking him.

  “Hey!” Sullivan yelled, drawing their attention. He stopped ten paces from them as they turned toward him.

  “Leave that man alone.”

  The man who appeared to be their leader stepped forward. “Fuck off.”

  Sullivan smiled. “Do you recognize me?”

  “Should I?”

  “Yes. I’m Richard Sullivan.”

  The gang leader’s sneer turned uncertain. “Fuck you are.”

  “I want you to leave that man alone. Turn around and walk away, and I won’t have to hurt you.”

  In a movement that would have been missed by most people, the thug pulled a knife from his pocket. He lunged at Sullivan, his cronies quick at his heels.

  Sullivan sidestepped the attack and used his assailant’s momentum to throw him to the ground. His head hit the concrete with a loud crack, and with a quick jerk of his arm, Sullivan pulled the knife from the thug’s hand and arced it upward just as the next man rushed at Sullivan.

  As the knife met the attacker’s stomach, a shrill scream escaped his lips. Sullivan pulled the knife out and threw the man to the ground. The other two had stopped cold. One held a knife, the other a nightstick.

  “Come on, you bastards!” Sullivan said, turning toward them. “Give me a reason!”

  The two standing thugs backed away then broke into a run as soon as they were clear.

  Sullivan tossed the knife to the ground and jogged up to the man who had been attacked. “You all right?”

  The man looked up into Sullivan’s face. “It is you. Richard Sullivan.”

  “Yes. Let me get you to a hospital.”

  The man stood up and rubbed his side where he had been kicked. “No. No, I’m okay. Thank you. What are you doing back here?”

  “Just checking up on the place. It seems the war is still taking its toll.”

  “It is. Predators like these are everywhere. The military tries to patrol the city, but they can’t be everywhere.”

  “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “Home. I’ve been out looking for work all day.”

  “How far is home?”

  “Just on the other side of the park. I’ll be okay.”

  Sullivan nodded. “Be safe.”

  He watched the man continue on down the path, limping slightly. Once he made sure the other thugs weren’t lying in wait, he turned back to the two who had attacked him. The man he’d stabbed was dead. The other was still unconscious. Sullivan knelt down beside him with the knife in his hand. He brought the blade to the man’s throat and took several deep breaths before pulling it away. He dropped the knife from his shaking hand, stood, and walked away, still trying to concentrate on taking deep, calming breaths.

  13

  ALLEN SLID THE credit card across the park bench. The man who had identified himself as Brooks waved it across his tablet.

  “It’s not much,” said Brooks.

  “But is it enough?”

  Brooks grunted. “Way things are, I need to take what I can get.”

  “Good.”

  “What’s the target?”

  “You don’t need to know. I’ll be there to tell you what to do.”

  “That’s not how I work.”

  “It is if you want the money.”

  Brooks tapped the card on the bench. “All right. What’s the plan?”

  “I need to get inside a facility. But the timing has to be perfect, because there’s a man I need to be there, too.”

  “So what do I do?”

  “You need to infiltrate the facility, incapacitate the guards then help me apprehend the man when I lead him in.”

  “How well-guarded is this facility?”

  “I’m not sure. It’s a warehouse. They keep a man on the roof, and there are cameras everywhere.”

  “A warehouse? In the industrial sector?”

  “Yes.”

  “If you give me the block, I can arrange to have the power cut when we need to go in.”

  Allen pulled up a map of the city on his tablet. “This block.”

  Brooks nodded. “What else?”

  “That’s it. Cut the power, incapacitate the guards—I’d prefer it if you don’t kill them—and help me apprehend the man I’ll be leading into the warehouse.”

  “And how are you going to get this man to follow you in?”

  “He’s looking for me. He’ll follow.”

  Brooks grunted. “When?”

  “I don’t know yet. I’ll be in touch.” Allen stood up from the bench. “Arrange to cut the power, but don’t do it until I say so. You can be ready to go at a moment’s notice?”

  “Sure. Unless a better job comes along.”

  Allen nodded. “If it does, I need you to let me know as soon as possible.”

  As he walked away from Brooks, Allen again began to feel doubts. Of course, he’d give Brooks very careful instructions that Sullivan was not to be killed, but planning an ambush felt wrong. Sullivan was his best friend, after all. Hadn’t they been through too much together for a low act like this?

  Once again, Liz’s voice filled his mind. “So it’s all set, Frank?”

  “Yes. Brooks will be on call for when we need him.”

  “Good. I know you have doubts.”

  Allen stopped walking.

  “Frank, listen to me. This is more important than you realize.”

  “You keep saying that, but are you going to tell me why we need Sullivan? First you told me to get the ship so I could go into hyper-hyperspace and cross over to be with you. Now you say Sullivan needs to be on the ship. Tell me why, Liz.”

  “Not yet.”

  Allen clenched his fists and looked around him. He wanted to hit something, but he stood in the middle of a path running through the park. The nearest object was a cement trash bin. He took a few deep breaths. “Liz, it feels wrong to betray Rick like this.”

  “I know. But it must be done. Even he will see the need for it once it is revealed.”

  “Will there be any danger in it for him?”

  “There’s always danger, Frank.”

  Allen resumed walking.

  “Remember,” said Liz, “how it felt to touch me when you were in hyper
space, when you were on your way here?”

  Allen took another deep breath.

  “Remember how it felt to touch my skin, taste my lips? My warm breath on your body? My tongue? Do you remember, Frank?”

  Allen swallowed. “I remember, Liz.”

  “Just be patient. Do what needs to be done, and you can have that—you can have me—for eternity.”

  Allen nodded. He approached a group of men sitting on a bench. They recoiled slightly as he passed; they must have been watching him talk to himself. Allen quickened his pace, making his way out of the park.

  14

  SULLIVAN WAS CAREFUL as he walked back to the hotel. The sun had set, and if the gangs were active in the daytime, it would only be worse at night.

  The people of Agrona seemed to know the danger: the streets were nearly deserted. Sullivan kept his head down and didn’t make eye contact with any of the few pedestrians he did encounter.

  It felt strange to be back in Agrona. He’d grown up here, and the last time he’d been in the city there had been a war. He certainly didn’t think he’d be back so soon. He’d expected to return sometime, but after the instability had passed, after the economy had recovered and the city was once again secure.

  When he was a few blocks from the hotel where he and Kate were staying, Sullivan heard a vehicle stop behind him and at least two doors open. He glanced quickly over his shoulder. Three men were starting to move toward him.

  Sullivan stopped and turned. In the dim light cast by a handful of lamps along the street, he could see that they weren’t thugs like those he had encountered in the park.

  Sullivan surveyed his surroundings. To his left, a narrow alley ran between two buildings. Some rubble blocked the entrance, but he was sure that he’d be able to scramble over it without too much difficulty.

  One of the men reached around to the back of his waistband, and Sullivan didn’t wait to see the gun. He dove over the rubble and landed hard on the other side. His hand found a fist-sized chunk of concrete as he landed, and his palm throbbed with pain as it was split open.