Thursday, August 29, 2013

The Assassination of Robert Griffin, or at Least the Attempt



Here is the next chapter of Spies of Pangea, hope that you enjoy it, and please leave us comments about what you think. Good bad or ugly, want to hear it all.

The Assassination of Robert Griffin, or at Least the Attempt

Jerrick Mitchell monitored the bouncing lights and flipped between channels listening to the various languages coming from the translation booths that he was sending out to the main floor of the Republic Senate meeting. Most senators spoke Common just fine, but for the handful who didn’t and the number who wanted to hear the proceedings in their planet’s native language the Senate Translation Division did their job well, supervised by Chief Engineer Jerrick Mitchell.

Mitchell was a bit on the short side, and looked younger than he was with dark green eyes and wavy brown hair. His cheery disposition made him well liked by the Interpreters and the Senators who worked with him. He excelled at his job and never gave anyone cause to think otherwise; which was exactly what he wanted as a well placed Socialist Alliance spy.

The senate leader began calling the vote and the bouncing lights stilled as the interpreters stopped talking. There was need to translate yea’s and nays. The education bill passed, Jerrick knew that it would, it had been purposely kept as a simple bill and no one really opposed it. There wasn’t any behind the scene dealings to get the need majority vote and Jerrick had nothing to report back to the Alliance. If anyone back home even cared they could pull up the results of this bill on the Republic nets and nothing Jerrick could add would be very helpful.

Other days things were different. Of course what happened on the main floor was public knowledge, but many of the meeting rooms and conference rooms that the senators used for private discussions were not really as private as they thought. Microphones were in every room to be used if translation was needed, and whether it was needed or not Jerrick monitored every discussion he could for valuable intel. Particularly useful was when they discussed intelligence reports from their own spies within the Socialist Alliance. Reporting back to the Alliance what intel had been gathered was helpful in finding the Republic spies. Most days Jerrick had nothing to send back, but when he did it was always something good.

The Senate leader adjourned the session for the day and the senators stood and gathered their belongings. Jerrick watched the camera feed as it panned across the hall. He took note of Senator Robert Griffin as he turned and headed toward the exit. Jerrick had been recently asked to do more than his usual intelligence gathering, Senator Griffin was feared by Director Fontana D’or and she had ordered Jerrick to take out Robert.

****

The explosion ripped through the building. Fire alarms blared and overhead sprinklers kicked on soaking everything and everyone. Two senators lay dead. Four others seriously injured. Senator Robert Griffin picked himself up off of the floor. The explosion had come from the treadmill that he had been going to use, if Senator Farland hadn’t stepped onto it first. “I’ve got to stop using the same workout machines every day.” Robert muttered to himself. This was the third assassination attempt this month. Intelligence had been good about warning him the other times. But Fontana D’or had placed a bounty on his head so high that even honest people were willing to kill.

Emergency personnel were beginning to arrive and armed soldiers in dark uniforms were securing the room. Lt. Whettam O’Bray appeared through the smoke, his gray uniform rumpled. He stopped when he saw Robert. He took a second to catch his breath, and then half smiled. “Glad to see you’re alive Senator.”

“Found out too late this time?”

Whettam dropped his head. “Sorry Senator. Tracking threats on your life alone is keeping my team busy. How bad is it?”

“There isn’t much left of Senator Farland. I don’t know who else is hurt, but there is plenty. I’ll probably have to stop using the capital’s gym.”

Lt. O’Bray nodded. This was supposed to be a secure area. Obviously not secure enough. If Senator Griffin wanted to stay alive he was definitely going to have to be extra cautious for awhile. “I’ll escort you to the medical wing sir.”

Robert shook his head. But then noticed that the ringing in his ears was getting worse and that he did have a pretty good cut on his arm. So much to do as a senator, Robert just didn’t have time for attempts on his life, hopefully he could give his presentation at the intelligence committee meeting well enough without the practice he had been hoping to squeeze in. “Lead the way, Lt.”

****

Jerrick grumbled to himself as he watched the news that night in his apartment; so much for the exploding treadmill. And how did Griffin keep finding out about the attempts on his life? Mitchell was going to have to keep his plans even quieter. Someone back in the Alliance must be tipping off the Republic intelligence agents somehow.

Jerrick turned back to his dinner. It had gotten cold while he was watching the report on the explosion in the Senators gym. Frustrated he threw the rest in the garbage chute and paced his small apartment. Fontana D’or was not going to be happy with him on another failed attempt. She was a hard woman to please and had gotten even more picky and paranoid now that she was the head of the Socialist Alliance. There was no telling how many more attempts he would have before she sent someone else to do the job and take him out in the process. What could he do, his skills were useful, but they were pretty specific, and assassination wasn’t one of them.


Friday, August 23, 2013

The Spies of Pangea: Chapter 1

For the next while we'll be uploading rough draft chapters of the novel in production, The Spies of Pangea. I would love to hear your feedback of what you think, as well as any editing issues you may spot. Again, these are first drafts, okay, the first chapter is actually a third draft, but I can't promise you future chapters will be that far along. Again, please enjoy the first chapter of The Spies of Pangea.

 Chapter 1 - Eliar Meine

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                       
Eliar Meine was the most wanted man in the Galactic Republic Alliance, and they didn’t even know what he looked like. Eliar ran a hand through his short cut dark hair and his green eyes studied the control panel of his attack shuttle. The blur of hyperspace filled the view screen in front of him. He was comforted by the swirls of energy that passed. Not long to go before his pilgrimage would be complete. He would pay final respects to his slain comrades and family on his home planet of Minus Tenu which had been scorched with no survivors. Eliar would make sure that they received the vengeance they deserved.

The countdown timer beeped and Eliar pulled the lever bringing the ship back into its proper dimension, right on target. A blackened planet with boiling red clouds hung directly in front of the ship, nothing like the vast forests which had once grown. The proximity alarms sounded and Eliar reacted by reflex born of years of experience raising shields and powering up weapons. A glance at the screen revealed six Socialist Battle Cruisers in an attack formation on the port side. The communication panel came to life. “This is restricted space, identify yourself or be destroyed.”

Eliar wondered if his rogue status had spread through the ranks of the Socialist fleet yet or if his id code was still good. It was worth a try, no sense in being taken out by six capital ships against his one shuttle; although he would make a good accounting of himself. “This is Stryker-18. Identification code Gamma, Bravo, Echo oh seven five five. Security clearance code: how lovely was the morning.”

There was a long pause at the other end of the connection and then the young voice of the communications officer came back. “Your clearance checks out Stryker-18. Please dock your shuttle on board the flagship Burning Moon. Admiral Nielsen would like to speak with you.”

“Copy that.” Eliar responded while he powered down his weapons, kept his shields up and turned his ship towards the directed Battle Cruiser. What did the Admiral know? Was this a trap or just the respect due to his status? He waited for his system to be taken over by the dock controls of the cruiser and headed back into the main section. Eliar checked his armor and opened the storage locker where he kept his weapons. Rifle and clips on his right thigh, pistol strapped to his chest, knives across his body in select housings and within the soft pack on his left leg he placed his med kit. He tested his gauntlets for the blades hidden within them and they extended without sound before returning to their housings. He went through the routine each time he went on a mission. No sense in going unprepared. The Admiral was probably either going to praise him or kill him, best to be ready for either scenario. The last thing to check was his helmet. Scratched and having seen better days, it still felt better to keep it close by for the many benefits a helmet could give. He adorned the helmet and let the seal pressurize before running a quick check on its systems.

The shuttle settled smoothly into the docking bay clamps and Eliar watched the digital displays reporting the atmospheric changes outside the shuttle. When they reported that the condition was livable he popped the seal on his ship and stepped out. The docking bay was frigid having been exposed to the vacuum of space and the ceiling heaters were blasting out hot air to warm the deck. Being enclosed in armor that could handle most environments had no effect on a Stryker but he also realized most Socialist envoys were those dressed in uniforms ill-suited for cold temperatures. The docking crew looked on and whispered to themselves at seeing a Stryker in person having only heard rumors before. He marched with confidence to the airlock that separated the docking bay from the ship and slipped through into the pressurized zone.

As the inner airlock door opened Eliar enjoyed the look of surprise that crossed the three officers and six marines’ faces when he stepped inside. It was the V slit visor that put people on edge. It gave away no emotion, and one could never tell where the user was looking. Eliar simply waited for them to make the next move, his muscles tensed in case he needed to defend himself.

The Marine lieutenant forced a smile, “Welcome aboard sir, please follow me. The Admiral is looking forward to meeting you.”

“Lead the way Lieutenant,” Eliar stated blandly. He admired the crisp turn of the Marines and he fell in step with them as they made their way down the corridor, boots clicking on the corrugated steel floor panels. The ship was built for durability and functionality, very little had gone into aesthetics. Steel girders lined the walls and conduits full of the essential cabling followed the corridors.  Intense white lights were hard mounted on the ceiling just often enough to create slight shadows followed by blinding brightness as one made their way through the ship.

They stopped in front of a lift and Eliar’s sense of direction told him that they were near the front of the ship. The Lieutenant swiped a badge against a card reader and the doors slid open.

“Step in please. This lift goes directly to the Admiral’s briefing room. He is waiting for you.”

Interesting, Eliar thought as he stepped into the lift. The guards were not coming with him for his meeting with the Admiral. The doors closed behind him and the lift quickly accelerated, he felt the pull in his stomach and enjoyed the sensation as it settled again. The speed of the lift disguised just how many floors above the docking bay the Admiral’s briefing room was but Eliar was sure it was near the top. The lift came to a jarring stop and Eliar had to bend his knees to keep his balance.

The doors slid open and Eliar stepped into one of the few rooms on the ship where decor mattered. The room’s walls were cherry wood panels and fine art hung around the room. There was even a stand with a glowing purple plant growing in one corner. An intricately carved wood desk filled the back of the room with a long table connecting it with the rest of the room. The grain detailing in the wood was impressive even to Eliar. Luxuriously padded chairs were neatly organized before terminal screens embedded in the table that glowed dimly showing they were on. The one thing in the room that was missing was the Admiral. That arrogance brought anger to Eliar’s face and was glad he had kept his helmet on; he quickly composed himself, no sense in letting the Admiral get the upper hand in whatever was coming.

The temptation to use one of the terminals to gather intelligence was severe, but Eliar refrained. There was no sense in getting caught here, he was sure the Admiral was watching from somewhere waiting to see what the fabled Stryker-18 was doing. The Admiral technically outranked him, but the whole Stryker program reported directly to General Kayne. And General Kayne reported directly to Director D’or.

Eliar moved away from the lift door and continued to take in all the details that he could from his position. He didn’t need to tilt his head because his helmet gave him a complete view around him and could analyze whatever of interest came up. The Admiral clearly had a love of art. Eliar was sure that the various famous paintings on the wall were the originals. Most commanding officers simply had a screen that displayed art and then would become an active monitor of need. These pieces were canvas and the frames were nearly works of art themselves.

There was a hiss of pressure and out of the corner of his visual feed Eliar saw that one of the wood panels had recessed and was now sliding open. Admiral Craig Nielson stepped through in full uniform from whatever hidden room he had behind his ready room. Eliar turned and gave him a sharp salute.

“At ease Stryker 18.” The Admiral stated with authority while returning the salute. Eliar returned to his relaxed demeanor but watched the Admiral make his way around the desk like a predator. “Why don’t you take a seat.” The Admiral gestured to one of the chairs aside of the desk and then sat down himself at the head. Eliar took the offered chair warily. The support groaned under the weight of the armored Stryker but didn’t break. He still wasn’t sure if he was in danger yet, but he did not want to raise any flags with the Admiral. “So Stryker, what brings you home to Minus Tenu?”

“I came to pay final respects before setting out on my next mission.” Eliar watched the expressions on Admiral Neilson’s face carefully. “Director D’or has approved my request to bring justice for the destruction of my home, family and comrades.”

The Admiral’s lips tightened almost imperceptibly and he blinked before responding. “I am very sorry for your loss. I read reports that your comrades were practically brothers to you. I can’t allow you onto the planet though. The toxicity of the atmosphere would eat away at your ship and kill you instantly if you were exposed to it, even with that impressive armor of yours.”

Eliar’s suspicion’s had been confirmed. For reasons he did not yet understand the Socialist Alliance had taken it on themselves to destroy the planet and frame the Galactic Republic. He had made a mistake in killing the Republic High Commander Boronaught for the crime. He learned a long time ago that thinking of the past would get him nowhere and Boronaught was certainly guilty of plenty of other crimes because most people of such high ranks were. The question now was how high up the line did the conspiracy go, and why would they authorize it. Fontana D’or did not press his initial mission to enter Republic space to go after Boronaught and Eliar had taken that at face value. Did she know the truth and was just certain that he would never link her to it, that he would be killed, or did it stop short of her. Eliar had great respect for General Kayne, but certainly as the head of the military he knew what really happened here. 

Eliar focused his attention back on the Admiral. “Tell me sir, what happened down there?”

The Admiral nodded sternly and composed himself. “As far as we can tell the Republic found out about the Stryker program and decided that it was too much of a threat to them. A fleet of six ships exited hyperspace near the planet and began an immediate bombardment. The planet’s defenses were crippled before there was even time to react to the attack. The ships were gone before my fleet was able to respond to the distress calls.”

Eliar kept still as he listened. It was always best to use as much truth as possible in your story. He wondered if he would get the same story out of the junior officers if he had them in an interrogation room and no rules on what he could do to them. The intel that Eliar had found was that the fleet around Minus Tenu was the same fleet that had scorched the planet. The man sitting before him was a murderer of millions even if there had been some good reason to want the Stryker program taken out. It was time to do what he had to do and in one swift motion Eliar pulled his pistol from its holster and fired twice. Two neat holes appeared in Neilson’s chest and stained red immediately. A look of surprise crossed the Admiral’s face as he gulped in a fit of air and touched the sticky fluid spreading across his uniform. Eliar waited as Neilson’s eyes glassed over the he stood up and moved over to the body. He felt the vibration of the deck, listened for the lift or for secret doors to open spilling out marines but nothing had changed. Eliar was truly alone with the Admiral.

Eliar dumped the Admiral off his chair and stood over the holographic keyboard. Fortunately the Admiral was still logged in and had been keeping a file of the conversation the entire time. He opened the ships logs and began scrolling over the dates of the fleet. The order for the attack was easily found on the Admiral’s computer. It was simple but confusing. “Genetic and biological experiment with Stryker program gone wrong. Entire planet infected. Quarantine and implement scorched earth procedures.” The order was issued from General Kayne’s office. His mentor General Kayne had ordered the death of everyone he loved and Eliar too if he had been home.

Eliar paused at the final order and clenched his fists against the desk. This was not the time for emotions he reminded himself. He must keep himself in control and take his revenge on everyone. Exactly who ‘everyone’ was would be determined as time moved on. The time and place for General Kayne would come, but not today. Today though was the time to seek vengeance on those who had carried out the order. Using the Admiral’s terminal he sent instructions to the rest of the ship. He informed them that the biological contaminate on the planet was spreading to the other ships. He ordered a lock down of the ship and ordered an open fire on the other five ships of the fleet. It was imperative that the contagion be exterminated.

Waves of destructive energy fired into the fleet without warning. Without shields and with the close proximity they were quickly turned into space scrap. Eliar watched the fireworks show from the Admiral’s desk. Five down, one to go. There would be marines coming soon he was sure. He typed in commands to give himself full access to the ships systems while on route to leave and placed the ship in lock down. Blood red light switched on as regular power was cut, casting the isolated room in shadows. Eliar blended in well before moving to the lift doors. Pity to destroy the art, but there was no way he could get it back to his shuttle and still take out the battle ship. The door to the lift slid open and Eliar stepped inside. He pushed the button for level three and double checked his weapons as the lift started shooting downwards. There would be guards and technicians in the torpedo rooms. He wondered how many he was going to have to take out before getting where he needed to be.

The lift slowed to a stop and the indicator light showed that he was on level three, but the door did not open. Eliar felt his face muscles twitch into a smile but knew that engineers were working hard on lifting the Admirals lock down command. He typed into the lift command board and the doors parted silently to reveal two marines standing out front the lift with their backs turned. Panels on his thigh armor lifted away to show knife housings and with a practiced motion Eliar pulled both and lurched forward, driving the blades into the marines and casting them back into the lift before they had a chance to defend themselves. The adrenaline ebbed and he moved into the hall in a low crouch keeping an eye on the environment for traps. He passed an armory and a floor plan map to the Weapons Bay and had yet to encounter any hostility.

Eliar was running short on time. It was not going to take long before someone found the Admiral dead.

The rest of this corridor was clear of personnel and Eliar quickly made his way down it. He passed several doors, mostly labeled mechanical rooms, one soldier ready room, escape pod hatches; finally he saw what he was looking for at the end, torpedo room. He pictured the usual setup in his head. Everyone would be at their stations. All weapons had just been fired. There would be some clean up happening and everyone would be on edge waiting to find out what happened next. Eliar took a deep breath and keyed in his code at the door. It slid silently open to reveal six men and two more on the catwalk above.

Eliar flung two knives, two of eight men dropped instantly. The rest were just registering that the door had opened when Eliar pulled his rifle from its holster. He fired twice and two gunnery officers dropped. Three marines and a tech dove for cover and returned fire. A lucky shot or skill from a marine had one of his bolts smash into Eliar’s chest and they all looked to see the Stryker fall. He didn’t. The crackle of charged energy danced over the personal shield of the armor, illuminating in gold light the frightened V slit visor before the shield absorbed the energy and Eliar moved behind a support beam as the marines checked their weapons, cursing at their bad luck.

The tech yelled at him, “Don’t hit one of the torpedoes or we’re all dead.”

“We’ve got a Stryker shooting at us, we’re pretty much dead anyway.” one marine said as he shifted from cover to shoot but was taken down with a burst from Eliar’s rifle. His body hit the floor with a thud and he didn’t move. The other two marines huddled down by the tech. They were going to wait Eliar out until backup arrived.

Time for a new strategy. Eliar holstered his rifle and called out, “I don’t want to kill you. I just need the room. I’ll let you live if you drop your weapon and exit.”

“How do I know you won’t shoot us in the back?” the tech called before being hushed by a marine.

“I give you my word. You will leave this room alive if you drop your weapons.”

“Let’s take the risk.” The tech said to the marines, “I think it’s our best chance.”

“Fine.” The marines dropped their guns and started walking to the door with the tech right on their heels. They quickened their pace past Eliar who simply watched them go.

Right as the door slid open a siren went off blaring loudly with a flashing red light. A stressed voice came over the intercom. “This is the Captain speaking. Admiral Neilson is dead, killed by the Stryker. If you have eyes on him, shoot him. We’re trying to fix the damage but know this. He is responsible for our fleet’s destruction” The marines turned to look back at Eliar and the door started to slide shut in another lock down mode. Eliar jumped forward and shoved them out the door. It sealed behind them with a hiss. He smashed the control panel and turned back to the task at hand.

Time was up, the whole ship was about to know where Eliar was, but he had given his word, they would leave that room alive. He didn’t promise they would live out the day. How he was going to live was now a mystery though.

Eliar quickly went over the dead in the torpedo bay, leaving the two on the cat walk to drip blood.  He pocketed I.D. cards, credits and little tokens before checking the charges of their rifles, still full. Good. Next Eliar turned to one of the long torpedoes lining the wall ready to get shot out the tube. He began the meticulous act of unscrewing an access panel labeled danger, explosives. In just a few minutes Eliar had exposed the explosive ordinance in the torpedo and rigged the marine’s weapons to overload their battery packs and explode causing a chain reaction taking out the first torpedo which in turn should force every torpedo in the room to blow. To ensure that he moved to the Weapons terminal and pulled up the inventory. This room housed 30 torpedoes and by removing their safeties with his command code there would be no stopping the detonation. Explosions that size from inside the ship should send a reaction clear to the engine room and destroy the entire vessel.

Pounding echoed against the door to the corridor. He watched as a focused beam of light burned into the door and started cutting upwards. The problem was that there was now no way back to his ship. Eliar sighed and looked around the room taking in his resources. He nodded and grabbed his communicator and placed a call to his ship board computer.

“Computer, record this message and relay it to Allena Dartin. I don’t have time to wait for a return message. Begin recording. “Allena, this is Eliar Meine. I need an emergency pick up. I’ll be in orbit of the planet Minus Tenu. Track my communicators signal once you are in system. End record, begin transmission. If someone attempts to board, self destruct”

The computer acknowledged the request and Eliar went back to work. He had spied one of the torpedo chutes down for maintenance. He checked the board and said the locking hatch wouldn’t guarantee a seal. He could make it out through the tube if he could re-engage the firing mechanism and even suck out a few marines and techs into the void. Hopefully Allena would get his message and pick him up before he used up all the air. He guessed even in a meditative trance he would only have a day, maybe a day and half.

The cutting beam was already on the downward angle and the alarms had been shut off. Eliar could feel the anticipation and excitement behind the door and any second a whole lot of marines would be coming in at him guns blazing. Eliar ensured the feedback loop in the torpedo was set to explode and quickly jumped up to the shell he had loaded into the firing tube rack. He slapped the button that would start the conveyor belt that loaded the tube and hoped that his quick little computer program would work with the firing of the tube once loaded. The belt began moving and Eliar saw the door break open, weapons fire spraying out through the smoke with no target.

He entered the tube and the airlock door clanged closed automatically behind it but didn’t seal.  He started running down the dark chute as the countdown appeared on his HUD before the outer doors opened into space and he was flung out into the cold. A blast of flame was the last thing anyone on the ship saw as the overloaded rifles exploded and the chain reaction breached out. The ship had been destroyed in a spectacular event of fire and energy.

Twenty hours later, just as Eliar’s air was running out a custom shuttle exited hyperspace. It was painted black and difficult to see against the backdrop of space. No markings identified it. The ship quickly arrowed in on Eliar’s position and pulled him inside. The pilot wasted no time and quickly made the jump back into hyperspace. Eliar would live to fight another day.