In Earth's Service (Mapped Space Book 2) Page 28

  “As you know, the outer defense perimeter has a gravity barrier preventing unauthorized superluminal flights into the system,” Trask began, immediately causing my stomach to turn!

  The dead EIS agent, Tiago Sorvino, suddenly screamed his warning at me from the grave: aleph-null! There was only one human controlled system in all of Mapped Space important enough for a system wide gravity barrier!

  “Our fleet will commence its attack here,” Trask continued, indicating a spherical marker to the left of the gas giant. “This is where the wormhole exit will appear, five million kilometers from Jupiter. This is how we will avoid the outer system defenses. We will never cross them. Four battle groups will simultaneously attack Earth Navy installations on the Galilean Moons – Io, Europa, Ganymede and Callisto.” Four triangular indicators emerged in a line from the spherical wormhole marker, then diverged on separate courses toward their respective targets.

  “Saboteurs will disable the Galilean Detection System before our fleet exits the wormhole. They’ll never see us coming. The first Earth Navy will know of our presence is when we open fire from orbit. Without GDS targeting data, their surface and orbital defenses will be compromised while we will destroy Earth Navy’s shipyards, maintenance docks and supply bases. At any one time, a third of all Earth Navy ships are at the Galilean Bases for refit and repair. Most will have skeleton crews and cold energy plants. None will be ready for battle, making destroying them on the ground a simple matter. The attack will last forty minutes by which time Earth Navy will be crippled. Our fleet will then withdraw back through the wormhole before other system defenses can be deployed.”

  Aleph-null! Aleph-null! Aleph-null! It rang like a clash of symbols in my mind.

  “If we can send our fleet through a wormhole,” Ambassador Delgado asked with a trace of irritation, “why did you make us spend months coming all the way out here?” She was from Inalis IV, a cold Union affiliated world settled from South America. She’d had the longest voyage to reach the conference and would have an even longer return trip as she’d have to steer well clear of the Solar System after the attack.

  The Chairman nodded sympathetically, sending his voluminous jowls jiggling. “What better way to break the myth of Earth Navy invincibility than by destroying their main bases and a significant portion of their fleet from eight hundred light years away, watched by every news network in Mapped Space and by thousands of honest, law abiding citizens, all of whom will take what they see back to their respective homeworlds to spread fear and doubt. And in the Solar System, twenty four billion people will watch it live, the day it happens. I have seen to that.” He paused, letting the breadth of his plan sink in. “In a few hours, the Mavia will be famous.”

  “Mavia?” Secretary Stilson asked.

  “My penchant for ancient Earth history,” the Chairman confessed. “I took the liberty of naming our secret weapon after Queen Mavia. She led a revolt in three seventy eight AD against the Romans in southern Syria, defeated them several times and eventually made peace on her terms. Rather apt, don’t you think?”

  “Only if we achieve a quick victory,” Secretary Stilson said, “and freedom from Earth’s interference.”

  I’d never considered Earth to be an interstellar Rome. Most colonies were self governing with little or no interference from Earth Council, except where Access Treaty matters were concerned and in those cases, opposition was not tolerated. Without Earth policing the worst of humanity, mankind would have suffered a setback by now far more damaging than the thousand year Embargo. Most human colonies would agree the arrangement worked well, but clearly not all.

  “Our joint declaration will immediately follow our victory in the Jovian Moons,” the Chairman said. “It will be issued here, by all of you, and will be carried across Mapped Space by the media, lighting a fire Earth will be unable to put out in a thousand years.”

  “It will take two years for news of this to spread to every colony,” Minister Delgado said.

  “By which time,” the Chairman added confidently, “it will be all over.”

  “Don’t be so sure of that,” Vice Chancellor Liang warned. “An unprovoked attack will unite the four Earth Collectives like nothing else could.”

  “And some of the colonial worlds,” Doctor Sohrab added thoughtfully.

  Trask stepped forward, breaking into the conversation. “While we have the Mavia, Earth Council will have to recall a large part of its operational fleet to protect the Solar System from more wormhole attacks. That will leave weak forces out here for our fleet to deal with on equal terms. Earth Navy will still outnumber us, but they’ll be spread thin. They can’t be everywhere and protect the Solar System at the same time, whereas we will concentrate our forces and pick our targets, fighting only when we have local superiority.”

  “We don’t have to defeat them,” the Chairman added, “just force Earth Council to negotiate.”

  “They won’t negotiate on enforcing the Access Treaty,” Vice Chancellor Liang said, “but Earth will retaliate. They will strike our bases, our shipyards and while they can rebuild theirs, we will be unable to do the same without Earth’s help. It may take them years to recover, but they will recover. How long can our fleet survive without support?”

  “Longer than you might think,” the Chairman said, nodding to Trask who walked to the main doors.

  Looks of shock appeared on the delegate’s faces when the doors slid open and my brother walked into the room, fully armed and dressed as a Brotherhood Captain, watching them through his optronic eye.

  “This is Captain Rix,” the Chairman said. “He speaks for the Brotherhood.”

  Senator Stilson voiced what they were all thinking, “This man does not belong here!”

  “On the contrary,” the Chairman replied, “Captain Rix is an essential member of our group. The Brotherhood has an extensive logistical network beyond the reach of Earth Navy, a network that will keep our fleet operational for as long as we need it. Isn’t that right, Captain?”

  Rix approached the conference table, sweeping the table with his cybernetic cyclops eye before speaking. “Seven Brotherhood Chapters have agreed to support your fleet. The remaining chapters will not attack your ships or raid your colonies … for now. They may even join later.”

  “If we win,” Senator Proche said with a trace of cynicism.

  “Certainly not if you lose,” Rix said sharply. He started walking slowly around the table, gauging the strength of his audience. “Most of our bases are outside Core System space. All the large ones are, but we also have several smaller bases closer to Earth. Their locations will remain a secret, whether you win or lose. To preserve that secrecy, our navigators will pick up your ships from agreed locations, pilot them to our bases for repair and return them to you.”

  For the first time, Governor Metzler spoke. “Hardfall is one of these pick up points. It will also serve as our main base in Outer Draconis.”

  “We have a number of such bases prepared,” the Chairman said, “all under the control of our people, all well defended. Martial law will be established to ensure Earth loyalists give us no trouble.”

  “Considering we already control all communications in and out of Hardfall and the other bases,” Metzler said, “it could be a year or two before Earth Navy even realize where our bases are.”

  “How many ships is the Brotherhood providing?” Senator Proche asked.

  “None!” Rix said. “We will not do any fighting for you. We will not rescue survivors or conduct evacuations. We will not break Earth Navy blockades, carry supplies or aid your wounded. All we will do is repair battle damage. Any ship not flagged as a Separatist ship is a legitimate prize. If any of your ships fire on any of ours, the deal is off.”

  “And what does the Brotherhood receive in return for this generosity?” Minister Delgado asked.

  “We will be paid in credits and equipment,” Rix replied. “Terms have been agreed.”

  “Quite reasonable terms,
I assure you,” the Chairman added. “Even if Earth Navy blockades our worlds, which we know they will, this arrangement ensures we will continue fighting. Earth will have to agree to negotiate eventually. In the meantime, we are still discussing the possibility of Brotherhood ships acting as privateers on our behalf. Any Brotherhood privateer would be granted full immunity for past indiscretions and their Captains would be offered commissions in our fleet.” The Chairman turned to my brother. “What would you think of commanding a Brotherhood squadron, Admiral Rix? Would that interest you?”

  My brother gave the Chairman a sour look. “Not at all.”

  The door to the technical services center rattled as someone tried to force it open, then a fist banged on the door outside. “Hey Ardie, why’s the door locked?”

  I wanted to hear more, but I couldn’t risk being caught now, not with what I knew. I disabled the console, killed the feeds from the Vega Room and stunned the technician and the guard again. Knowing I’d never get the stunner through the arch scanner, I left it on a shelf filled with spare parts, then slipped out through the rear exit, activating my communicator.

  “Jase, you there?”

  “Yeah, Skipper.”

  “Have Izin access the Aphrodite’s passenger manifest. I want him to identify a passenger for me, name of Manning. Born on Ardenus, probably lives on Earth. They call him the Chairman.”

  The Chairman’s name was Manning Thurlow Ransford III. Izin discovered the Aphrodite’s most expensive suite was permanently set aside for his personal use and a super yacht parked several clicks away was his private interstellar taxi. What he was chairman of, how he had the power to summon leaders from six major Core System worlds or why he would initiate an undeclared war on Earth with Mataron technical assistance was a mystery. He wasn’t listed in my threading’s catalogue of cosmic criminals and none of the public data services had any record of his existence. Wherever his talents lay, remaining out of the public gaze was high among them.

  “Access to the Olympus Deck requires a restricted security pass,” Izin informed me via communicator.

  I’d found a vacant seat in a fast service diner. Serverbots hung from a network of slideways above the tables, dropping interactive menu screens in front of customers, lowering food from the kitchen onto the tables and scooping up empty plates with robotic efficiency. It was crowded, noisy and anonymous.

  “Any way in?” I whispered into my hand.

  “There’s a formal dinner tonight for conference attendees, Captain,” Izin replied. “Ransford’s name is on the guest list.”

  “Too public.”

  “The ship’s butler service is currently cleaning his dinner suit. It’s due to be returned at four.”

  “Where’s the butler service?”

  A short time later, I stepped from the service elevator onto the Olympus Deck wearing an ill fitting service uniform and an identification chip that told the ship’s tracking system that I was a thirty two year old woman from Belize. The chip would open doors for me, but any scrutiny would reveal I bore no resemblance to the maid now bound and gagged in a cramped closet five levels below. At the far end of the corridor, a pair of guards at the main entry looked my way. I gave them a curt wave, which they acknowledged with a disinterested nod, then I carried Ransford’s biowrapped suit to the Pantheon Suite’s large white double doors.

  “Suit for Mr. Ransford,” I said to the door panel, hoping it was equipped with only a chip reader, not a DNA scanner.

  “You are two minutes late, Miss Manzanero,” the door panel informed me. “A performance decrement has been added to your efficiency profile. Your performance rating is now ninety three point four.”

  “Ninety three point four? That’s good. Now open the door.”

  The double doors slid silently apart, giving me access to a long lounge area. A marble topped bar filled with a vast array of elaborately labeled and shaped drink dispensers ran off to my left, deeply padded lounge chairs occupied the center and an enormous curved table surrounded by transparent datapanes dominated the far side of the room. The rectangular thin sheets standing at the edge of the table scrolled with numbers, charts and news feeds, all playing to an enormous empty chair, the center from where the spider spun his cosmic web.

  Opposite it all was a floor to ceiling holowall running the length of the room, providing a realistic vista of palm trees, pure white sand and an aquamarine sea reaching to the horizon. Muted sounds of the ocean and the aroma of tropical flowers filled the room. If I hadn’t known I was aboard a starliner eight hundred light years from Sol, I might have believed I was at a luxury estate in Tahiti. It was an absurd use of space and energy on a starship, even a starliner, yet proof humans would pay exorbitant prices for a little bit of simulated Earth far from home.

  I hiked across the sprawling entertainment area, past the Chairman’s datapane encircled nerve center, to a door that slid aside as I approached. Inside was a dressing room with closets lining one wall, a wide entry to an immense bathing area opposite the wardrobes and access to a bedroom at the far end. Standing along the wall beyond the bathroom entry were ten recharging alcoves, each with its own full body exoskeleton, all identical in design except for their colors which ranged from black through the spectrum to white. The sound of running water came from the bathing area where a large circular shower rained upon a lavishly decorated spa pool. Strangely for a dressing area, there were no mirrors, perhaps a sign of the Chairman’s dislike of his own appearance.

  “Is that my suit?” Ransford called from the bubbling pool.

  “Yes, sir,” I replied with butlerish politeness.

  “Do you want me to see to it, sir?” a female asked.

  “No. Finish drying me.”

  The sound of absorbers wiping wet flesh came from the bathroom, then a completely naked Ransford glided out on a pressure chair, his rolls of fat on full display. He was followed by a beautiful young woman. She was tall and lean with short golden hair and wore only a G-string. His pressure chair floated into the center of the room while she retrieved his undergarments from one of the closets. When she returned to his side, pressure fields lifted him into the air allowing her to dress him.

  “Which color, sir?” she asked.

  “It’s a formal dinner, so … the black one, thank you, Dara.”

  “Of course, sir, an excellent choice.”

  Dara guided the pressure chair by hand toward the black exoskeleton while Ransford floated above it like a beached whale in white underwear, then he touched a control on the chair’s arm and the black machine stepped from its alcove.

  “That’s far enough,” I said, tossing the suit on the floor.

  Ransford turned toward me, for the first time acknowledging my existence. He studied me curiously, gauging the threat, while his statuesque assistant moved to place herself protectively between him and me.

  “You’ve crumpled my suit,” he said without any sign of fear.

  “Considering you’re about to attack Earth for the Matarons, that’s the least of your concerns.”

  A cold look spread across his face, then he nodded to the young woman. Dara immediately launched herself at me, kicking at my head with surprising speed. I barely evaded her attack, then she spun and kicked low and hard at my legs, sweeping my feet out from under me, sending me crashing back-first to the floor. Her speed and strength told me she was no mere plaything, but a gene-modded, combat trained dark angel. I’d heard of her kind, sex toy by night, body guard by day, born to kill and please with equal proficiency, but they were so rare and expensive, she was the first I’d ever encountered.

  The moment I hit the floor she was in the air, kicking down at my throat. I rolled away as her heel slammed down with neck breaking force, then she kicked out at my head with her other foot as I came to my feet. I deflected with an elbow and kicked at her standing knee, but she somersaulted into the air and side footed me in the ribs, launching me through the bathroom entry. I struck the unbreakable ceramistee
l tiles awkwardly as she landed with perfect balance.

  “Bravo, my dear,” Ransford said as if he was attending a sports event.

  The dark angel leapt at me again as I started to get to my feet. I rolled beneath her, kicked up and caught her trailing foot, trying to knock her off balance, but she twisted in mid air like a cat and landed gracefully. Giving her no time, I charged. Dara tried gouging my eyes, but I deflected with one hand and caught her throat with the other, driving her back toward the spa-pool. She thrashed wildly, tried palm-striking my elbow, kicking my groin and clawing my face, but I deflected each attack before slipping on the wet tiles. We fell together, my weight on top as I drove her throat down hard. There was a sickening thud as her head struck the tiles at the edge of the pool then she went limp in my hands. I rolled off her, getting to my feet slowly as blood dripped from the back of her head into the pool and her glazed eyes stared blankly at the ceiling. Certain she was dead, I turned to Ransford who was watching from his pressure chair.

  “Impressive,” he said, showing no concern for his dead angel. “Dara would have killed most men.”

  “One look would be enough,” I said walking into the dressing room as Ransford floated back in his chair, keeping his distance.

  “I’ll give you ten like her and a hundred million credits.”

  “You don’t even know who I am or what I want.”

  “Does it matter? You just defeated one of the most highly trained, custom designed killing machines money can buy,” he said, instructing his pressure chair to lower him down onto its cushions, “and you know things you shouldn’t. I’m quite sure you’re not here to help me dress.”

  “No,” I agreed.

  “Are you planning to kill me?”

  “Would the attack on the Solar System stop if you were dead?”

  “Nothing can stop it now.”

  “Why are you doing this?”

  “Because I can,” he replied coldly. “Because someone has to break Earth’s control.”

  “What are the Matarons paying you?”