The Orion Deception (24 page)

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Authors: Tom Bielawski

Tags: #Science Fiction & Fantasy, #Science Fiction, #Adventure, #Heck Thomas

BOOK: The Orion Deception
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"Probably tomorrow," he replied. "With a little luck."

"That long?" she said, crawling out of bed.

"I'm afraid so," he answered. Lainne was eager to be off this ship and begin searching for her brother. Although Heck had done his best to distract her with all there as to offer aboard the luxury liner, Lainne had still been understandably distracted. Knowing that the woman was suffering from the simplest form of torture, the unknown, Heck decided to go through the routines with her. Again. He always found that planning a course of action or formulating routines did wonders for the idle mind. "We'll spend much of today maneuvering the ship into an orbital spacedock. Then, customs officials will board the ship and search it and any baggage going aboard Rigel. Tomorrow, after we clear Rigel customs, we'll board a shuttle that will take us from the orbiting spacedock to Rigel.”

"You've done this before?"

"A time or two," he admitted. "Though not on anything this nice!"

The two smiled and Heck looked back out the window as Lainne closed the door to the master bedroom, Heck assumed she was getting dressed for their dinner meeting with Gelad. They were to meet with the Israeli operative at 1730 at the observation deck restaurant. It was the most formal dining environment on the ship, men were required to wear a coat and tie while the women were expected to wear a proper dress. The restaurant was typically reserved for the VIPs and dignitaries aboard the ship, though exceptions were made from time to time. The observation deck was on the uppermost level of the luxury spaceliner and boasted a viewport that encompassed its entire ceiling and all the walls, or bulkheads as they say aboard ship. The views were so stunning that when Heck looked out at the stars and planets he often had the sensation of being exposed to space itself.

When Lainne came out of from the suite's luxurious master bedroom, Heck turned away from the great window and went inside to put on his suit. But when his eyes met hers his heart skipped a beat. Freshly showered, her skin glistened in the warm lights of the cabin. Her blond hair spilled down over her shoulders and framed her innocent-seeming face, her large eyes revealed her vulnerable state. Though she didn't act scared, he could see it in her eyes. This wasn't the type of thing she was used to. Her life before had been starkly mundane. No adventures, no running and hiding. Especially no kidnappings of her loved ones. They were nearing the culmination of this harrowing journey and the danger was only just beginning.

And to top it all off, Heck knew that he had fallen in love. Doubts assailed him briefly as he thought of Laylara. But he steeled himself against those doubts and closed that chapter in his life. She was gone. He would always honor her memory and the love they shared, but not at the expense of the future. And his future seemed inextricably tied to Lainne Connor.

Heck left his place by the window and embraced the woman he had grown so fond of. The held each other close for a long moment and Heck was overcome with emotion and hugged her tightly. She squeezed him tightly in return and stepped back, smiling prettily at him. She whispered something in his ear and turned to lead him into the bedroom.

It seemed they were going to be late for dinner after all.

"Where is your assassin?"

"He is homing in on your renegade lawman as we speak, sir."

"It wouldn't hurt for us to have undercover agents in Rigel's Escape so we know exactly what our allies are up to."

"We have tried before, sir. But my agents have always been discovered and politely refused before gaining entry. They are certainly spying on us if they can discover our undercover operatives so easily."

"What is your assassin going to do differently to ensure success?"

"The assassin will not tell me, there are ears within your palace that report to the aliens."

"Mike!" shouted the Prime Minister, refusing to use his comm system with his Chief of Staff in the office next door. The Russian resumed his attack on a second bottle of vodka from the PM's liquor cabinet. Arnold shook his head, that man always could drink him under the table.

"You
can
use the comm system, sir," came the exasperated reply.

"Where is Orion?" he demanded, ignoring his Chief of Staff. "He's late for our meeting. I need to go over a few things before my appearance in the Halls."

"He’s not answering the comm channel they provided for us, sir."

"Shi-"

"Sir!" interrupted Mike. "You've got to see the classified intelligence reporting feed!"

"What?" he answered tersely as Vladimir activated the computer systems in the PM's desk.

"Reports coming in now..." the voice hesitated. "Sir, I can't believe this."

"Get on it with it, Mike!" he shouted at the comm. "You know I like to get my bad news without the BS."

"Sir, the Ministry of Defense Intelligence is reporting the Liberty Island Drifts have been attacked. No," he paused. "They have been destroyed!"

"Destroyed?" he whispered, numb. "All of them?"

"I don't know, sir. It seems to have been confirmed. The news feeds are reporting unusual activity in the area of the Islands. Intelligence reports are confirming that refugee craft have been picked up by privateers as well as Palmetto Defense Force Fleet patrol craft."

"What's left?" he asked, a smile playing about his lips. Only one type of weapon could wreak that kind of destruction: plasma cannons.

"We have the video feed coming in now, sir. I'll send it to your desk."

Arnold clicked off the comm and sat down behind the great cherry wood desk as the holographic video feed came alive. Live images from spy satellites in the area revealed a massive debris field flicking into view. The PM and the Fleet Marshal watched as hunks of metal, rock and even human remains drifted in the silent vacuum of space. The images shifted and focused on the main drift in the Liberty Islands, Drift of the Virginias. The massive floating city in space had been reduced to a charred husk. The great dome that had kept the vacuum of space at bay and kept the warm atmosphere in, was gone. The gravity plating had been destroyed as was evidenced by the sphere shaped debris and water fields surrounding the drift. The great mountain that had been created to give the drift a feel of the mountains of West Virginia had been leveled.

"Congratulations, Horatio. It appears that Orion's Sword is going to make good on their part of the bargain."

Arnold turned off the video feed, he had seen enough.

"Mike!"

"Yes, sir?" responded the Chief of Staff. By the tone of the man's voice, Arnold guessed that the man was swamped.

"Get in here."

"Sir, there is a lot of work to do now. You'll need to give a press conference. And I will need your orders for the Fleet, sir."

"The Fleet?" he said, perplexed. "What about the Fleet? I have the Fleet Marshal here."

"Aren't you going to activate battle plans? Send orders to the Branch Chiefs, Cabinet Ministers and brief the Members of Parliament?"

"Mike, it seems you have forgotten. Those drifts withdrew from the Commonwealth and forsook their treaties and obligations. They attacked us first!"

"Sir, I was not informed of any attacks against the Commonwealth."

"They got what they deserved. A time of reckoning has begun, Mike. And we are going to see it happen, now get in here!"

Horatio Arnold was giddy, the dawn of his rise to new heights was at hand. His prospects were good, but he wished that his benefactors had at least warned him that the attack was imminent. The door to the office opened and Chief of Staff Mike LeFevre entered. Arnold handed Mike a glass of champagne as the Chief of Staff entered the room, wide-eyed with grief and uncertainty. Vladimir chose to remain silent.

"I want Parliament in Intelligence lock-down. Send no further briefings to them, including the committees."

"But, Mr. Prime Minister, how can we do that?"

"Executive Directive, Mike. Make it so."

LeFevre used his secure comm channels to effect the orders of the Prime Minister and to ensure that the Executive Directive was registered and given an official number. Once that was done, he nodded to the PM.

"Sit down, Mike. Let Anton and me bring you up to speed on something. And I sincerely hope you will see the value in what it is we have to say..."

All thoughts of the assassin, bound for the mysterious drift taken over by the Orion aliens, drifted from the PM's mind. The Commonwealth was going to war.

Chapter

Ten

~

Heck stood silently, staring through the observation window as the great tube extended from the
Columbia II
to the floating white spacedock. Stars glittered brightly in the backdrop of the floating metropolis-drift, a lonely jewel in the dingy and nearly lawless Outer System. There was one other large spaceliner docked on the opposite side of the spacedock, but Heck couldn't read the name on its hull. A number of tiny robotic craft traveled this way and that about the spacedock, continually inspecting the entire hull from the outside for any possible dangers.

The spacedock was shaped like a wagon wheel with a spherical hub in the middle. Six long tubes, like spokes, radiated from the sphere in the center and terminated into a single tube that ran the circumference of the wheel. It was at the intersection of one of these spokes and the outer rim of the wheel where
Columbia II
now stopped. A vibration shivered through the
Columbia II
as the metal of the docking tube slammed home on the hull of the ship.

A train of passengers stood patiently waiting for the docking procedures to finalize and were buzzing with anticipation. The captain and the first officer of the ship waited at the hatch while a flight attendant stood ready with a scanning device. Finally the hatch opened with a loud "swoosh" and a blast of beach scented air flooded the compartment. The passengers filed through the opening, each receiving a handshake or a smile or a wave from captain and the first officer as the flight attendant used a passive scanner to register each passenger with the Spacedock Authority.

Finally Heck and Lainne stepped out of the docking tunnel and into the spaceport, Gelad was right behind them. The spaceport was luxurious, more so than any spaceport that Heck had ever passed through, and was bedecked with themes reflecting the various entertainment zones on the drift below them. They were assailed by motion sensing advertisements and three dimensional recordings of people inviting the travelers to stay in this resort or visit that attraction. Some of the holographic ads were somewhat primitive in appearance, not unlike the early days of 3D television, Heck noticed, while other examples were far more sophisticated; it was an odd contrast with the dazzling technology that they had seen thus far.

They passed from the beach themed room and entered the customs area which was decorated in a luxurious office style motif. The walls were a brown color and the floors were thickly carpeted with wooden desks and office furniture throughout. Great cushioned seats and benches were strategically placed before great windows with breathtaking views of the drift below and space beyond. The decorations and paintings were warm and inviting and fresh flowers sat atop counters and tables.

At first glance, the customs station seemed rather free of customs equipment. Heck and Gelad both were veteran travelers and could not believe what they were seeing. Could it be that the intensely popular drift and its orbital spaceport truly had so little apparent security in place? Beyond the wealth invested in the decor, there was very little in the way of visible security.

The signs in and around the spaceport were all in English and French, the official languages of the Commonwealth -a holdover from its United Nations predecessor of the early part of the century- as well as a number of other languages commonly used in the System. Heck was grateful for the use of English. While the ex-lawman could certainly speak a few languages, he was never comfortable doing so and stuck to English whenever he could.

There were six customs agents on duty in the orbital station, each silently and mechanically waving chattering tourists from station to station. Several robots with an exceptional display of artificial intelligence hovered about and interacted with the travelers. The robots, which were a metallic approximation of a vaguely human head and upper body attached to an anti-grav platform, delighted some of the travelers with surprising wit as they checked passports and travel permissions.

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