Sullivan Saga 2: Sullivan's Wrath

by Michael K. Rose

  Brain laughed. “The things that man made us do to him to find out where the body was… it wasn’t pretty. We couldn’t understand why he wouldn’t just tell us. We probably would have let him go if he had. We supposed at the time it was out of some sort of loyalty to his former boss.

  “Well, we had to take off a few fingers and an ear before he finally broke. We went to get the body, and as we dug it up, we figured out why he hadn’t wanted to tell us. He’d buried several prepaid cards with the body, each loaded with ten thousand credits. He hadn’t blown as much of it as we’d thought. He’d buried it, like a pirate with his treasure.”

  Brain smiled. “It was smart, really. The way he was throwing money around, someone would have tried to rob him eventually.”

  “What happened to him?” asked Sullivan.

  Brain waved his hand dismissively. “Oh, we killed him after making sure he’d told us the real location. Zednik’s body wasn’t pretty, but it was still recognizable, and I showed it around to enough people so the word would spread that he was really dead, and I was in charge.”

  “Well,” said Allen, “he got what was coming to him.”

  “Damn right,” said Brain. “Besides, I think people prefer having me in charge now. I’m a lot more understanding.” He took a sip of his drink. “You have to make examples of people, of course, send a message every once in a while. But if a man crosses me, his family is off-limits. I don’t kill children.”

  Sullivan nodded. He knew that for a man like Brain, that was more than could be expected. But it saddened him that he was part of a society in which killing for profit could be justified, in which some lives were forfeit but others were not. How was the life of one person less valuable than the life of another? As Sullivan pondered this thought, he realized that he himself had weighed the value of men’s lives and determined whose deaths were justifiable, whose were not.

  Brain was telling another story. Allen seemed to be listening, nodding. Sullivan tuned in just in time to hear Brain say, “Just like a watermelon!” and laugh.

  Sullivan shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “How long do you expect your man to be with the money?” he asked when Brain had stopped talking.

  “Not too much longer. You in a hurry?”

  Sullivan nodded. “Time is of the essence in this matter, I’m afraid.”

  Brain took his tablet back out and tapped on it. “I told them to hurry it up.”

  “Thank you,” said Sullivan. “I can’t tell you how much we appreciate this.”

  “Not at all, not at all,” said Brain. He leaned forward again. “Frank,” he said, addressing Allen, “is there any chance I could get my hands on one of those hyper-hyperspace ships?”

  Allen glanced at Sullivan. “They were all destroyed getting men to Edaline for the war, I’m afraid.”

  Sullivan nodded. “There were some problems with the technology anyway,” he said. “It was never one hundred percent reliable.”

  Brain frowned. “Too bad. Something like that could make a man a lot of money. If they ever work out those problems, you’ll give me a call, eh?”

  Allen smiled. “Of course.”

  They spent the next hour making small talk with Brain. Sullivan could see that he had changed. Being in charge had made him a lot cockier. Every other sentence was a boast of some kind or another. When the prepaid card finally arrived and Brain handed it over to them, Sullivan was glad to be free of the man’s presence.

  They let Brain think they were leaving the planet and took off in their ship. They jumped into hyperspace and spent a day circling the system before returning to Abilene, just in case Brain had decided to track them.

  “You can never be too careful with a man like that,” Allen had said.

  Sullivan did not disagree.

  23

  THE PLANET OF Abilene had been settled—and named—by a group who had left their native Texas two hundred and fifty years earlier. The majority of the settlers belonged to a religious group led by a man named William Johnson. Most people on Earth recognized them as a cult, and it is true that Johnson had an unhealthy level of influence over the members of the church.

  Sullivan, who had never really studied the history of Abilene until now, read the Stellar Assembly Database files concerning the planet’s history with interest. As he and Allen were waiting for their contact to arrange a meeting so they could buy the weapons, he began to understand how Abilene had become the lawless enclave of murderers and smugglers that it now was.

  After the initial settlement by Johnson’s followers, other groups began to arrive. There was plenty of fresh water due to extensive underground reservoirs, but the surface of the planet was unbearably hot and Earth crops could not grow. But settlers kept arriving, bringing with them the materials to build large greenhouses in which to grow food. Johnson knew that if food became plentiful, his followers would rely on him less and less for their means of survival. In a desperate move to consolidate his power, he led raids against the small settlements where greenhouses had been built, killing those who opposed him and destroying their facilities. Every new group that arrived learned quickly that they either submitted to Johnson’s rule or would face the consequences. The cult slowly evaporated after Johnson’s death, but the system he had put in place remained, with ruthless individuals vying for power.

  Sullivan shook his head as he read the history. During this period of time, great social advancements were being made on Earth. It was time when nearly the entire planet’s population enjoyed security and prosperity. It was only extremist groups such as Johnson’s who did not approve of the changes that were happening around them. They left Earth in search of planets where their chosen ways of life could be pursued. The result had been several planets whose inhabitants, hundreds of years later, lived in the kind of poverty that hadn’t been seen on Earth, in any significant way, since the twenty-second century.

  Sullivan realized how a planet’s or region’s environment shapes human society in a very non-trivial way. A hot, miserable planet with scant resources like Abilene was more likely to breed a hard, ruthless people than a planet like Silvanus with its mild climate, continent-wide forests and extensive mineral wealth. It didn’t have to be that way, of course. Just societies had developed on harsh planets or moons, but when combined with a ruthless individual such as William Johnson, the inhabitants of such planets rarely escaped from a dog-eat-dog mentality. And those with a similar mentality were, of course, drawn to the places where they could go about their business unencumbered by laws and social expectations.

  Charles Albo, the man Allen and Sullivan were waiting to meet with, was just such a person. Sullivan had studied the man’s history in the Stellar Assembly Bureau of Investigation files that Allen had surreptitiously copied before turning in his Bureau-assigned equipment back on Silvanus.

  Albo was originally from Tritica but had left for Abilene when he was twenty-two. He’d risen through the ranks in Orion Zednik’s organization and was eventually placed in charge of Johnson City, the planet’s only other city of any size aside from the capital of Abilene City. When Orion Zednik was killed and Eugene Brain took over in the capital, Albo had managed to consolidate power and Brain, busy elsewhere, was unable to stop him.

  Brain, it was generally believed, had struck a deal with Albo, letting the other man run his affairs in Johnson City as long as they did not interfere with Brain or his operations in Abilene City or in the rest of the planet’s small, scattered settlements.

  Sullivan turned away from the screen in front of him as he heard Allen step into the cockpit.

  “Any news?”

  “Yes,” said Allen. “Albo wants to meet with us and make sure we have the credits we promised to pay him. After that, we’re to wait at the Johnson City spaceport for him to bring the weapons.”

  “All right, all yours,” Sullivan said, gesturing toward the controls of the ship.

  Allen sat in the seat next to Sullivan and programmed the ship.
They had been slowly orbiting the next planet out from Abilene, waiting for a response to their message to Albo. The ship broke orbit, and a moment later a blue flash filled the cockpit window as they entered hyperspace. A few seconds after that, they emerged from hyperspace near Abilene, and the ship descended into the planet’s atmosphere.

  Sullivan looked down at the vast expanse of desert below them. It was incredible that anyone would choose to settle on such a planet. But had it really been any different on Earth? Thousands of years ago, humans had settled in environments just as hostile.

  The spaceport of Johnson City came into view. Beyond, Sullivan could see the square cinderblock construction that dominated on the planet. If the gray blocks were painted at all, it was in various shades of tan, giving the impression that the city itself was nothing more than an irregularity-shaped outcropping of rock rising from the desert sands.

  The ship smoothly glided toward the spaceport. The tower directed Allen to a landing zone that had been reserved for him hours earlier. As the ship landed, two men could see that a well-armed welcoming party had already gathered.

  Sullivan and Allen stepped out of the side hatch and stood by the side of the ship as the group approached. Two men in the lead raised their guns. Sullivan and Allen put up their hands.

  As the two men searched them for weapons, a man emerged from the back of the group. Sullivan recognized the face from the Bureau file he had read. This was Charles Albo.

  Albo smiled as his guards nodded to him, silently telling him that Sullivan and Allen were unarmed. Albo stepped forward and put out his hand. The two men shook it.

  “Well,” said Albo, “I see no need to waste time with pleasantries. If you’ll let me have a look at your card, we can then begin to negotiate for the weapons.”

  Allen nodded. “Can we go inside?”

  Albo grinned. “I’ve had a room prepared in the terminal. Come with me.”

  Sullivan and Allen followed as Albo led them inside to a sparsely appointed conference room. A pitcher of ice water was brought in then, aside from a pair of guards at the door, they were left alone with Albo.

  “You said you wanted energy weapons,” said Albo, pouring them each a glass of water.

  “Yes,” said Allen. “Rifles and handguns.”

  “How many?”

  Allen reached into his pocket and withdrew the credit card that Brain had given them. “Whatever this’ll buy.”

  Albo took the card and brought out his tablet. He ran the card across the scanner. “Two hundred thousand,” he said, nodding. He handed the card back. “Well, a Mark Four rifle will run you twenty. A Mark Five is thirty, and a Mark Six is fifty. Handguns… I can sell you a standard Strava for five.”

  Allen glanced at Sullivan. Sullivan shook his head. Albo watched the exchange and laughed. “So this is your expert?” he asked Allen.

  Allen nodded at Sullivan. Sullivan cleared his throat. “Mr. Albo, we can leave out the Mark Fives and Sixes. We’re interested in quantity. For the two hundred, we would like twelve Mark Fours and six Stravas.”

  Albo nodded. “I’ll give you eight Mark Fours and three Stravas.”

  “Ten and six.”

  “Ten and five.”

  Sullivan looked back at Allen and nodded. “Ten Mark Fours and five Stravas, then?” Allen said.

  Albo stood and shook his hand. “Yes.”

  “How soon can you have them ready?”

  “Give me a few hours. If you like, there’s a nice club downtown where you can wait for me.”

  “If it’s all the same, we’d rather wait in our ship, Mr. Albo,” said Allen.

  Albo smiled. “Of course. It will be perhaps three or four hours.”

  “That’ll be fine.”

  As Sullivan and Allen left the conference room, Sullivan studied the faces of the men who were guarding the door. Once they were out of earshot he turned to Allen. “I don’t trust Albo. We should have just gotten the weapons from Brain.”

  Allen nodded. “I don’t trust him either, but Liz told me we had to do it this way.”

  “I still can’t believe how readily you jump when she calls.”

  Allen licked his lips. “Listen, Rick, you agreed to help us do this. Don’t ask any questions.”

  “This just doesn’t smell right to me. And who are these weapons for, anyway?”

  Allen stopped walking. “Rick, please. Just do what you’re told.”

  Sullivan sighed and nodded. He kept walking, but now he was more worried than before. He thought he had seen a trace of fear on Allen’s face.

  24

  KATE ALEXANDER DIDN’T need General Miller this time. She’d secured the services of Edaline’s best law firm, and the very next day she’d been granted an audience with Prime Minister Hall.

  Hall smiled as Kate, flanked by two lawyers, entered his office. “This really wasn’t necessary, Miss Alexander,” Hall said as Kate and the lawyers took seats in front of his desk.

  “I agree,” Kate said. “Unfortunately, you chose to make it necessary by refusing my calls and not getting back to me after Rick and I first visited.”

  Hall smiled again. “My apologies. I’ve been rather busy running the affairs of Edaline.”

  “Mr. Hall, I don’t really care. All you have to do is answer a few simple questions, and I and my legal team will leave you alone.”

  Hall nodded.

  “First,” said Kate, “do you or do you not have possession of a ship containing proprietary technology belonging to me?”

  “I do not,” said Hall.

  “Did you?”

  Hall hesitated. “I did. But it was stolen. That’s the reason, in fact, why I didn’t get back to you. I was trying to recover the ship so I could turn it over to you.”

  Kate smiled. “Where was it stored?”

  “In a warehouse.”

  “Write down the address,” she said, sliding her tablet across the table. When he had finished, she took it from him and glanced at it.

  “One more question, Mr. Hall.”

  “Yes?”

  “Do you know the whereabouts of either Rick Sullivan or Frank Allen?”

  Hall smiled more broadly. “I do not. I’m sorry.”

  “Well?” asked one of the lawyers after they had left Hall’s office.

  “I’m pretty sure he’s telling the truth,” said Kate. “I’ve had other information indicating that Rick and Frank are no longer on Edaline.” She thought about her visit from Liz and shivered involuntarily. “Still, I want to see that warehouse, see if Rick left anything behind for me to find.”

  “We’ll get the car.”

  Kate waited as her lawyers called the driver. He drove them into the industrial part of the city and to the address that Hall had given them. Kate studied the building for a moment before getting out of the car. The large bay door had been torn away. The site had apparently been cleaned up, however, as only scattered bits of metal remained on the ground.

  She walked up to the hole in the door and stepped inside. The warehouse was certainly large enough to hold a freighter. As she walked the inside perimeter of the building, she kept watch for anything Rick might have left behind. She came to a spot on the left side of the building and kneeled down. A dark stain marred the concrete floor. Kate couldn’t be sure, but she suspected it was blood. A few meters away was another similar stain.

  Kate concluded her search and stepped back outside where the lawyers were waiting. “Something happened here,” she said, “but it’s been cleaned up.”

  “We can go back to Hall, ask more questions,” offered one of them.

  “No,” Kate said. “It doesn’t matter now. I’m convinced he can’t be of any further help.”

  “What are you going to do now?”

  Kate shook her head. “I don’t know.”

  “Can we be of any further service?”

  “I don’t think so. If I could just have a ride back to my hotel, I’d be grateful.” She glanced at the car th
at had been following them the whole time to make sure the MPs inside saw that they were leaving. General Miller’s men had been vigilant in seeing that she remained safe.

  Kate waved at them, and they waved back. As she was about to get into the car, the sound of tires squealing made her look up. A fast-moving vehicle had just turned the corner and was speeding toward them.

  The two lawyers took her arms and took a few steps away from the street, pulling her with them as they went. The car skidded to a stop in front of them, and the barrel of a gun poked out from the passenger’s window. Before Kate could even process what was happening, the MPs in the other vehicle were beside her. One of them pushed her and the lawyers to the ground as the other pulled his own gun.

  Kate, her face pressed into the concrete, heard at least a dozen shots before the car sped away again. She opened her eyes. In front of her, the MP who’d drawn his gun was lying on the ground, his eyes searching hers. She reached out and put her hand on his cheek just as he coughed, sending a spray of blood down her arm. She reached down as the man began convulsing and grabbed his hand. He squeezed her hand hard. She wanted to yell out, but she held back and kept her eyes on his as he took his final breaths. The grip on her hand loosened, and Kate sat up, looking around her. The others were uninjured. She closed her eyes and tried to stop shaking as someone helped her to her feet and gently pushed her into the car.

  GENERAL MILLER WAS moving as soon as he heard what had happened. He threw open his office door and beckoned for his secretary to follow him. “I want MPs surrounding Kate Alexander’s hotel,” he said. “Send an armored vehicle to meet up with her car. I want men positioned at every corner between that warehouse and the hotel.”

  The secretary turned away to carry out his orders as Miller reached the outer door of the office. He was about to walk through and into the corridor when someone stepped in front of him.