Heart of Steel: Book II of the Jonathan Pavel Series (15 page)

Chapter VII

Torch System, Freeport in Orbit of Primus IV, Free Worlds League
Council Building, Goverment Quarter
October 16th, 844 AE

Traq looked sullenly at his papers as the debate continued. It was much more sedate than it had on previous occasions. Several of the most vocal anti-war MPs, including Henry Francisco were absent, nominally in protest of the upcoming vote. In actuality, because of the blank manilla envelope delivered to each of them two days before. That envelope held information that could be damaging for some, and career ending for others. The message had been simple - stay out of the debate. Traq glanced up to the gallery where Min sat. Garrett, the smug bastard, wasn't anywhere to be found. As much as Traq hated to admit it, his plan seemed to be working. Traq had done a straw poll. The motion which was a simply worded statement affirming that the League would adhere to its treaty obligations and render Solaria all aide military or otherwise it asked for in any conflict, would pass by ten votes. Traq doodled as the Speaker called the roll. Once the voting began, the motion was carried by fourteen votes. Once some MPs saw how the wind was changing, they threw their support behind the winning horse. Opportunistic bastards. Traq knew there would be issues to deal with after this. The media would speculate endlessly and the global intranets on most planets would be full to bursting with endless conspiracy theories. Traq once again thanked the stars that the prohibitive cost of transmitting information across star systems kept peer to peer communications confined to planetside. Imagine if the kooks of the universe could communicate across the gulf of space. There would be no end of trouble. This should have been a victory, but Traq didn’t feel very victorious. True, the League support would provide the League Navy roughly 260 ships to help augment the Solarian fleet, and secure the Republic’s northern flank. What was more, due to the Serpent’s Rift -the stellar navigation hazard which stretched along the entire border of the Confederacy and the Core Worlds, except for one unstable wormway at the Scylla Straight -the League closing its borders to Colonial shipping would drastically hinder the Confederacy's ability to export goods to the Core Worlds. That factor alone could be enough to turn the war against the Colonials. Yet, Traq couldn't shake the sense of dread that haunted his mind. By interfering so blatantly in the democratic process, Traq had felt the Republic had surrendered the moral high ground, and more than that he had played into the narrative that Francisco and his associates were trying to construct.  This gave the bastards more leverage politically in the future. That was a problem for tomorrow though. For now, Traq sat patiently as the parliament began debating how Leauge military forces would be divided between those on their way to support the war effort, and those who would remain to defend League Space.

Henry Francisco watched through his office window as the sun lamps of Freeport began to dim, and the lights of the city came on. Francisco hated this tin can. Men were not meant to live in such places. They needed to be under the sky, a real sky and feel the light of a real sun not UV sun lamps. Francisco heard movement behind him. The first time this had happened he had been understandably startled. Now though, he was growing use to his ally’s strange habits.

“On time as usual Ames,” Francisco said without turning around.

“I aim to please excellency,” the creature said from the shadows.

Francisco turned to look at the, well man never seened to be the right word. Ame’s face was elongated. Its proportions were definitely far from base line human. It disgusted Francisco to do business with such a creature. Genies, genetically altered humans, weren't uncommon in the League or anywhere in human space. The Galt Freehold, however, had always prided itself on the purity of their genetic template. Randers like those who settled the Freehold believed the baseline human was the pinnacle of divine perfection, and it shouldn't be corrupted by the meddling of science. After all, Genies were a rebellion against nature, which dictated the strong survive and the weak die off. Genies attempted to cheat this natural order, thus procreating an inferior genetic line.

Even though Francisco hated the very idea of Genies, he wasn't above using them especially when it suited his purposes.

“I assume you saw how the vote turned out,” Ames said.

“I did. When do we move?” Francisco asked levelly.

“Not yet. We need to wait until the Republic is at its lowest point. Even on your homeworld, opinion is evenly divided between those who desire neutrality and those who support the Republic.”

“Fools!” Francisco snarled. “Once the Galt is a free and independent state again, we’ll have quite a bit of housecleaning to do.”

“I am sure. I assume that also on your agenda will include a restructuring of certain labor codes, and customs regulations.”

“You needn't worry Mr. Ames. Your clients will have a direct line through the Freehold into frontier space and the border regions. You can move as much of your cargo as you like,” Francisco said.

As far as Francisco knew, this disgusting creature represented a cartel of coreworld merchants who were looking to expand their export/import business to the rim of settled space without the interference of Solarian authorities. Specifically, that business was the export of labor and the import of the proceeds of that labor. The labor in question would of course have to pay off the cost of their transport to the mines, smelters, and plantations. With interest, their great grand children might have a hope of seeing the debt fully paid. The idea of dealing with what amounted to slave traders bothered Francisco not in the least. After all, most of the transportees were Genies and slum rats from the Core Worlds overcrowded cities. Their relocation to the rim was social Darwinism at work. In the back of his mind, Francisco wondered why the Republic took such a dim view on debt labors. Most of their population was descended from colonists transported with the promise of a new life in exchange for labor. If Francisco had ever bothered to take more than cursory glance at Solarian history, he would see that those transportees, who now comprised the Steader class, had fought sometimes quite violently to ensure that despite differences in social class no man ever be considered property again. People like Ames and his employers if caught by the Republic, would be lucky to spend the rest of their lives in a Republic penal colony. Usually, the Republic courts found those guilty of slaving only deserving of a short drop and a sudden stop.

“Now you're sure you’ll be able to rally enough support?” Ames asked for maybe the fiftieth time.

“You leave the public relations to me Mr. Ames. Just make sure my contacts have adequate funds and armaments,” Francisco said.

“That won't be a problem Mr. Francisco. My employers have concluded this project to be a worthy investment. In gratitude for all your hard work, they’ve had me leave a token of their appreciation at your home.”

Francisco looked at the Genie, “You're sure that's wise. I am under surveillance.”

“Yes, which is why I did it. We’ve been bringing you these trinkets for months now, but did the Solarians threaten you with it?”

“No, they used those connections to that left wing student group you planted,” Francisco said.

“Exactly, Mr. Francisco. As I said, our counter surveillance techniques are flawless. Now enjoy your gift. It might be the last for a while, and try not to damage this one too much. I’ll be by to collect her in the morning.”

“Good night then,” Francisco said.

Ames bid Francisco adieu and then left.

Francisco saw him leave the office and he knew he would leave the building, but he had no idea how. The creature was never seen entering or exiting the building either by cameras or by security personnel.

Francisco stayed for a few hours afterward, checking to make sure the money Ames’s associates had promised had been wired to the correct accounts. It had. Francisco shook his head. Ames and his associates had invested nearly twenty million Omnicreds, which was close to ten million Solars on this project. It was a substantial amount of money, but peanuts compared to what they sought to make. Francisco was happy to take their money. Turning out the lights in the office, he took his private air car home driven by his bodyguard. Francisco never went anywhere without an armed escort. It never hurt to be overly cautious. Arriving at his home, a penthouse apartment in a quiet residential block, Francisco bid his men goodnight, and went to his bedroom. Stepping into the darkened room he raised the lights, and saw that Ames was good to his word. The girl sitting on his bed clothed in a neglige couldn't be more than sixteen. She was beautiful, no doubt the result of extensive bio-sculpting. Top tier clients expected the best after all.

She got up and bowed.

“How can I serve you sir,” she said meekly.

Francisco smiled as he took off his belt. His grin broadened as he saw the fear in her eyes when he cracked it in his hand.

“Turn around,” he said.

Across the street from Francisco’s apartment a three man OMI surveillance team fiddled with their instruments.

“I am telling you there's no getting through this blackout net,” said the first.

“Shit, you're right,” said the second.

“Better run it upstairs. If our MK VIII bugs can't cut through, then that's not anti-corporate espionage tech -that's first rate government.”

“I didn't think Colonial Intel had that kind of tech,” said the second.

“They don’t,” said the third.

The three looked at each other. OMI wasn't very forgiving for mistakes or failure, but they were less forgiving for ass covering. Agents had it pounded into their heads from day one. If anything was off - call it in.

On another rooftop not far away, Ames sat smiling as his enhanced eyes watched the surveillance team in their hide out. He could have covered his tracks more thoroughly, given Francisco a blackout net to neutralize Solarian surveillance equipment that was on par with the best equipment from Earth, but Ames was a bit of an artist, and he wanted to sign his work. He wanted the Solarians to know, but be unable to confirm that it was the
Rahya
who sowed the seeds of their destruction.  

Solaria  System, In Orbit of Zhong, Solarian Republic

Outside RSNS
Sound of Fury

October 18th 843 AE

Jonathan watched the great blue and purple mass of Zhong as it filled his helmet visor. Jonathan enjoyed EVA.  He always had embraced floating in the vastness of the empty black, while watching the stars and planets go through their movements unaware of the miniscule human contraptions orbiting them. Jonathan's meditation was broken by the voice of the
Fury’s
Bosun Terrance Knowles.

“Sir,
Taudown
and
Doneghy 
are on final approach.”

Jonathan took one last look at the great planet above him, and then activated his own com to reply, “Acknowledge Boats, let's get our people aboard.”

Knowles transmitted his acknowledgement.

Jonathan activated his suit’s reaction control system (RCS), and flipped himself off his back and onto his feet. He then lowered himself the 15 feet to the
Fury’s
hull, and activated his magnetic boots locking himself to the ship. Around Jonathan, the
Fury
swarmed with activity.  Over sixty crewmen, all with ‘rigger rating’ buzzed about in their EVA suits. Several, in addition to their standard suits, wore mechanical exoskeletons that allowed them to easily move objects that weighed several tons. Things might be weightless in zero gravity, but they still had mass and a man could only move so much without mechanical assistance. In the distance, Jonathan could see the heavy transports
Taudown
and
Doneghy
getting closer. Docking between big ships in space was a delicate process especially without tugs. Small ships like
Leaf Hopper
needed very little assistance, but both transports were about the same tonnage as
Fury,
which made the procedure more delicate. If a small ship bumped into a big ship on accident, the bigger ship might be damaged, but the smaller ship would bounce off. Two ships of equal size hitting each other, that could spell disaster. Normally, a space tug would be able to make the process less hazardous, but the reactivation of sixty ships from the mothball squadron was stretching resources thin. There was no tug available, so the docking had to take place the old fashion way. That required the only person who was fully rated in rigging and docking craft of this size to take command. The Bosun as the ship's senior NCO  was required to train rigorously for this maneuver, and be recertified before each new posting. The reason for this was, among the Bosun’s other duties, i.e. overseeing the ship’s other NCOs, maintain crew morale and be a conduit between the Captain and the crew, the NCO  was in charge of a ship's equipment and small boats. The rank of Bosun actually originated from the age of sail term ‘Chief of Boats’ or ‘Boat Swain.’ In those days, having well maintained equipment and small craft could mean life or death for a crew. Over time, the meaning of the rank had evolved, but the duties remained remarkably similar, even as navies left water behind and moved to the void of space. As the Solarian Navy regs put it,