Regan's Reach 2: Orbital Envy (28 page)

Marcus was already turning to face the three Judges. "Your Honor. We respectfully request that this matter be dismissed. The legitimate authority on Dahlia has brought no charges against my client and indeed as we have already determined Regan Stein's efforts have been recognized by that leadership as acts in support of that legitimate leadership. There is therefore no charge to answer."

There followed a short pause as the three Judges conferred. Then the Senior Judge addressed the court. "We will consider the matter and you will be advised. The outcome of our deliberations can be expected in three weeks."

"All rise!" The voice rang out around the chamber. The three senior Judges made their way in silence from the benches.

Vasily Popov scurried after the Coran Commander. Their long strides had carried them quickly down the corridor and they waited now by the lifts. Their shuttle rested on the roof of the building and Popov wanted desperately to speak with them before they departed.

Sighting them entering the lift with his own aide guiding them he yelled in frustration. "Merryl! Speak with me first please."

The aide fortunately responded, holding the lift in spite of the Coran's glare. Popov joined them and the doors closed behind him. He was about to speak when Merryl slammed him back against the wall, his hand at the Prime Ministers throat.

"You think we don't have the power to wipe you from the planet! Far from helping your strategy has proved an abject failure. I will return to my ship and consider what I will do with you. Make no mistake, this is not over. Either you will get me Stein or we will take her, and if it is the latter I make no promises as to what will remain of your precious Hillary Station or your planet." He released Popov's throat and turned away from him just as the doors opened. The terrified aide gestured for them to follow and led them to the stairway that would take them to the roof.

Popov remained where he stood, trembling with rage and fear. The doors closed and he immediately punched the emergency button, holding the lift. He slid down the wall until sitting on the floor.
What do I say to Andrei?

Marcus and Steve settled into the Pod still a little shaken by the rock star status the crowd outside afforded them. It had been a battle to reach the Pod door and avoid questions. The legal battle wasn't over yet and they saw no point in offending authorities here anymore than necessary by stirring up the media.

Within moments they were soaring over the Moscow skyline heading skyward. Mig fighters paced them for a few minutes then Ham in irritation accelerated away leaving them well in the Pod's wake.

On the screen Ham placed a visual of the square. Regan and Leah were still there, shaking hands and posing with fans for selfies.

Steve shuffled back in his seat. "So . . . Ham, your testimony, was Mariner really the Regent."

"He was a prince among men, a truly great man, certainly a king to his people. What makes a Regent after all?" Ham conceded nothing.

"You had me there for a moment," Marcus added, "When you said Sindali wasn't the legitimate authority."

"I didn't say that she had no authority, only that Marin was the legitimate Regent by birth being the eldest son. That is still the case and a truth Sindali would defer to should Marin decide to take the role. One thing is certain; the witch was never a legitimate authority"

"And did Marin pardon Regan?" Steve asked.

"You need to ask? What do your eyes tell you? As the precious Russian President is want to say, this is self evident. So then gentlemen, is it Hillary, or California, or Wellington?"

"I think Hillary first Ham," Marcus noted the nod from Steve, "we should talk with Regan, this isn't over yet."

Hilary's voice joined the conversation. "I'll have rooms prepared for you and advise Regan you need to speak with her in the morning."

They continued their rapid climb through the atmosphere, Ham switching the screen to the forward view. They could see a craft ahead of them rapidly growing bigger in their vision.

"Ham, what are you doing?"

"I thought you might like a look at their vessel, I mean . . . what can they do to us?"

They passed Merryl's shuttle as if it was standing still and continued on rocketing through the outer atmosphere. In minutes through the screen they could see the warship in the distance, appearing tiny with nothing to compare. But soon they could appreciate its immense size. As they drifted along one face of the behemoth both men were in awe, oblivious to the alarms sounding inside the Coran vessel.

"Shit, I hope we don't have to fight." Steve muttered it under his breath.

"You shouldn't be too impressed," Ham was dismissive, "It's the fight in the dog that counts."

As the Pod flashed passed the Coran shuttle its superior speed only added to the apoplectic rage of the Commander, Ryman's running debrief of the hearing having already pushed him to the brink of explosion.

Unwisely Ryman continued. "It was possibly a mistake to give credit to the AI's integrity."

Merryl finally screamed. "You shit . . ." A glare at the alarmed flight crew and they fixed their eyes forward. Merryl stood and clubbed Ryman with the back of his hand knocking him to the floor. Dragging him to the airlock he punched it open, throwing the body through. He then shut the door and without hesitation opened the lock to space. Still fuming he walked forward in the shuttle, placing a hand on each shoulder, one on the pilot the other on the navigator. He squeezed painfully.

"An unfortunate accident on departure Commander . . ." The pilot spoke first.

"Exactly," Merryl replied his voice full of malice, "Accidents happen to the foolish."

"It shall not be spoken of again sir."

The atmosphere in the cabin remained cool as they made a shaky approach into the flight deck. Without another word Merryl exited the craft and stormed toward the lift. The two flight crew remained seated for some time, still shaking.

"We're dead," said the navigator.

"Not if you stay silent. He looks after those he trusts." Neither woman sounded confident.

True to form, he found Terrin waiting as the doors opened. Merryl eyed her suspiciously as he walked toward her.

"Commander," she bowed her head. "Ryman is not with you?"

"Ryman will not be returning. He had . . . an accident on departure." Merryl deliberately put hesitation in the words then walked on without further comment. He knew officer Terrin. There would be no concern for the idiot Ryman. She would be anticipating promotion he was sure.
We will see.
Waiting until the last second before entering control he turned back. Sure enough she was still standing there, clearly exultant. "Terrin, I will make my report, and then you will meet me in my quarters. I will summon you when I'm ready."

She watched as he disappeared through the door.
No hint there . . . what does that mean?

The summons came to her in her room. More nervous than ever Terrin made her way to Merryls cabin, rehearsing different scenarios, approaches, attitudes of mind. He didn't acknowledge her as she entered and the room seemed filled with his radiating tension.

He stood slowly and turned. Stepping forward, seething he reached up with both hands gripping each side of her suit and ripped it apart at the seam, tearing it roughly from her body. Throwing her back on the bed he quickly freed himself and roughly mounted her, more force than passion as she twisted her head to the side. As he thrust painfully she tried to remain calm, until she felt his hands clasp around her neck and begin to squeeze.

He paused, slowing his thrusts, and glared at her, eye to terrified eye. "Now listen to me Terrin, listen very carefully." He stopped, still gripping her, resting his full weight on her much smaller body. "Have you been telling me the truth? Have you been telling me everything?"

Unable to breathe or speak, she jerked her head, desperate now, trying to nod. He released the pressure of his hands slightly and she gasped for breath, tears welling in her eyes. "Yes . . ." she coughed, rasping "Yes, you know all I know . . . Merryl, what has happened?"

He considered for a moment and then released her, rolled to the side staring at the ceiling, his breath labored, still seething with frustration and anger. "The AI, from Dahlia, the New Coran Protectorate, it was here,
we
brought it to this system." He swung back over her, threatening. "How . . . is . . . that . . . possible?"

Still trying to regain her breath, she struggled and desperately appealed to him. "Commander, please, I can't speak properly like this."

Merryl swung off the bunk, pulled his suit back up to the waist and crossed to sit, straddling his chair near the desk. Terrin sat disheveled on the edge of the bunk, still panicked at his look. He seemed crazed.

"Talk to me Terrin, I am this close," and he gestured, pinching his fingers together. The message was clear.

What happened to Ryman?
"Tell me about the AI?" She asked.

He glared at her suspiciously. "The AI spoke at the hearing . . . AS AN INDIVIDUAL!" He bellowed the words. "It said it came here on
my
ship."

Rapidly regaining her composure Terrin deliberately didn't cover herself, she leant forward, thinking.

"SPEAK . . . TO . . . ME Terrin, or so help me . . ." he tailed off, frustrated.

"Commander, the AI, they
were
going to wipe and replace it on the orbital. Somehow it must have stored itself on ship. This was before my posting. Sir, I don't wish to hide, but this is not something for which I am responsible."

Merryl stood and clenching his fists screamed with rage. He thumped the wall. "We cannot risk battle." He started pacing. "They give me one pitiful warship. They send me with pitiful armament, twelve pitiful missiles against an enemy that has already destroyed two of our best . . . and now this!"

She could sense him deflating, the swing into depression. She risked moving to his side and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Commander . . . the Russians have hundreds of nuclear missiles."

He stilled, seeming almost to fall into a trance. She didn't dare speak.
She who speaks first loses.

Calm seemed to come over him and he looked down into her eyes. "Terrin . . . you have given me hope."

"That is my privilege sir." Stoking her hands lightly down his body she dropped to her knees and pulled down his suit. He reached forward, clasping her head, leaned back on the desk and closed his eyes.

Relief flooding through her, Terrin considered her position as she worked.
What can I do now?
Another day . . . live to fight another day.

* * *

On Hillary the assembled group made full use of the large dining area in the Stein Compound. Marcus, Steve, Kevin and Mary, Regan, Leah and Jean had enjoyed a magnificent meal provided by Station Chefs. For the first time in months they had laughed and talked with abandon, the feeling in the room one of victory and celebration. It felt good. Marcus didn't spoil the mood although he sensed this was far from over.

Late in the station evening the group began to break up, each returning to their respective rooms. Jean, Regan and Leah sat talking, the last on the lounge couch. They finished their wine.

"We'll head back to The STEIN tonight mom." Regan said, standing.

"You can do it here you know, you're both adults, and I'm not bothered." Jean looked up at her smiling.

"Mom, we're not doing anything, what's wrong with you?"

Leah looked embarrassed, but nevertheless stood and joined Regan.

"Of course dear, I'm just saying . . ." Jean stood and hugged her daughter then Leah.

Leaving the compound they both walked silently up to centre pipe. No words were spoken as Ham displaced them across, nor as they walked to Regan's room in unspoken understanding. They shed their suits in silence and walked naked into the bathroom.

"You first tonight?" Leah gently pushed her forward.

"Oh yes!" Regan padded the water and then positioned herself under the stream, Leah standing behind her. She leaned forward on the wall with both hands, legs apart and sighed as Leah started from the top of her head, soaping, rinsing, massaging, slowly working down her shoulders, leaning against and embracing Regan as she reached around to wash her breasts and stomach. Regan surrendered to the feelings as Leah used both hands on each leg in turn, working from foot to the thigh and then couldn't help a groan escaping as she felt the anticipated hand reach through from behind to cup her sex.
God this is better than massage
she thought.

* * *

She looked down at the little girl beside her, holding her hand. Standing together there on the rocks, an island in the centre of the river, she could feel a firm warm breeze on her face and the girl laughed with her as they leant into it. The sound of water on the stones soothed her thoughts and she closed her eyes for a moment. A sense of the winds support came to her and she leant forward, looking sideways to see the girl, smiling doing the same. Eyes locked, as if testing the other they began to laugh as a tipping point came close, the force of the warm wind still holding them. Then suddenly, they were lifting, riding on the wind, hovering there for a moment before, emboldened, they leaned further into the breeze and soared away together. In moments they were above the valley, still laughing as they climbed toward the warm sun and then curled away in laughing embrace.

Waking, happier than she had felt for a long time, she lay there in the warmth recalling the dream. Then, hoping to recapture the experience she allowed herself to drift back into sleep.

* * *

Chapter Six

For two weeks shuttles circulated constantly between the Coran vessel and Russia, carrying crew on shore leave desperate to experience the soil under their feet. Restricted to the tourist areas of Lake Baikal in Siberia and Sochi on the Black sea their presence nevertheless attracted worldwide interest. Invitations from other nations including the US were all politely rebuffed by the Russian leadership and the Coran warship continued to ignore all communications other than from their hosts in Moscow. In Washington daily updates kept the President in touch with developments but without support from the Russians there was little to report. NATO remained on full alert and nervous national leaders desperately exchanged calls trying to determine who best to side with if the proverbial hit the fan. Russia didn't even bother to attend the most recent emergency meeting of the Security Council. They were busy, and the world held its breath.