LEVIATHAN by Rob Astor (read more books txt) 📕

ship!” He fired the guns again. “Let’s move it! Haul ass! Haul ass!”
Holding hands over their heads or clutching the nearest live body for support, the Eusians half-walked, half-stumbled over to the transport. Ripped green robes were splattered with bloody blue ooze. “Get in there! Go on! Get inside! We got diamonds to mine.” Archer’s men zapped the Eusians with electric cattle prods, herding them up the ramp. Some yelped in pain. Others squealed.
* * *
Viceroy Wexam shuffled into the Eusian Matriarch’s receiving area, the tip of his scepter punctuating each step with a soft click. His Viceroyal Staff was in tow. The regal Eusian Matriarch sat on a throne of blue and green marble covered with green throw pillows and draped needle point linens. Its wide stone base was flanked by a contingent of guards holding long spears with axe-like lances at the tips.
The Eusian Matriarch’s attire made the Viceroy’s robes look cheap. The royal robes were woven from blue and green velvet and silk, sporting a cape fashioned from incredibly large dark blue feathers. The leaves on her headdress were three times as large, fanning out like the branches of a tree. Emerald stones hung in a chain around her neck with a baseball sized emerald cut azure diamond resting between her breasts. Her folded fingers were adorned with precious green and blue stones at every knuckle.
Pausing at the foot of the throne, Wexam bowed deeply, keeping a firm grip on his wooden scepter. “Most majestic Eusian Matriarch,” he said.
She smiled softly. “Rise, my dear, dear friend.” Her blue eyes sparkled. Green facial scales had a bluish tinge to them. “It is most unfortunate, the level of Marauder activity in days of late. Another of our fringe systems was attacked. As many as thirty-five thousand Eusians are either dead or missing.” Wexam’s head lowered, slowly shaking from side-to-side. “You spoke with a Federation representative about our willingness to eradicate the pirates?”
“Yes, your grace.”
“I think we should add a little temptation of our own to this plot.” The Eusian Matriarch slowly stood, gently pacing across the highly polished blue marble floor. “I wonder how fast we could draw these criminals out into the open if they were made aware of Project Dreadnaught.”
“Most majestic, would that be wise? Project Dreadnaught is our greatest achievement. I shudder to think of the consequences if it were to fall into the wrong hands. The Marauders would be virtually unstoppable.”
The Eusian Matriarch smiled. “We will not hand it over to them as a present. No. However, we can bait a trap.”
“Most majestic grace, we have a plan in motion with Federation Operatives. Admiral McMurrary has Raven Spade’s brother and son working for him.”
“Very good, Viceroy. What I’m proposing is, offer a key piece of technology to them. Technology irresistible to the Marauders. Then, we let out just enough information about Project Dreadnaught…” The blue left her cheeks as her mouth curved down and her kindly expression turned sour. “…To draw them into the open…” She curled her fist. “…And crush them.”
* * *
Gunnar hopped out of the transport first, setting his bags to the side. He reached back, hefting Evan down to the dirt concourse. “Ever been planet side before, buddy?” he asked.
“No.”
Gunnar pointed at the marshlands beyond the landing area perimeter. “Those are the Ceremonial Mounds of Ondurok. Locals go there to pray for favors.” He picked up his bags and walked toward the main gates.
“Who do they pray to?”
“Toppor. See the river?” Evan nodded. “That’s Toppor River. It always flows in the direction of Toppor.” Gunnar pointed at the brassy yellow gas planet hovering in the sky forty-five degrees east of the orange star Tau Ceti. “The locals believe he’s the father of their culture passed into the divine state.”
“Maybe we should go pray with them,” Evan said.
“Why’s that?”
“It’ll take a miracle for us to help the Eusians.” They exited the terminal and walked down a gravel path toward turtle shell-like humanoid dwellings built of wood and stone sprinkled near the spaceport.
* * *
Inside his spacious garage, Gunnar pulled an old parachute tarp off a bronze colored Racing Corvette. Evan’s eyes bulged. His jaw dropped. “Awesome!” Evan checked the underside near the engines. “It’s a classic!” He looked at his uncle. “Why didn’t you tell me you had one of these? I could’ve been flying it.”
“Suddenly, I remember why I didn’t say anything. You ain’t got your pilot’s license.”
Evan inspected every inch of the engines. “Dad let me fly the Frigate.”
“In wide open space.”
Evan hopped up on the side to peek into the cockpit. “I know how to dock, too.”
Gunnar picked up an old rag. “Hey, hey! Do you mind? Footprints.”
“Sorry.” Evan kicked off his sneakers. He wrapped his hands around his face as he tried to see the controls.
Gunnar rolled his eyes. “Goofy kid.” He began wiping dust off the curved hull. “Your dad and I were gonna surprise you with this when you turn twenty. He’s been sending me spare parts whenever he found things at the shipyards.”
“Really?” Evan’s face was a broad smile. He slid in his socks to the edge and jumped down onto Gunnar, arms and legs wrapped tightly around him. “This is the best present ever.” Gunnar patted his back, waiting for Evan to let go. “You know you’re my favorite uncle, right?”
“I’m your only uncle.” He held his arms out, still waiting for Evan to let go.
“Then we agree you’re my favorite.”
Gunnar placed his index fingers in Evan’s armpits. Instantly, Evan laughed and let go, dropping down to the floor. “You could be a torture risk, you know.” Grinning, he helped Evan back up to his feet. “C’mon. Let’s get ‘er flight ready.”
* * *
Turning a ratchet inside a cast iron block, Gunnar’s attention was torn between his work and the holographic news from the tool bench terminal. Much like the Marineau incident, the new attack was getting the entire Federation’s media coverage. Admiral McMurrary stood aboard the bridge of a Federation ship, talking to a young reporter with patchy brown and orange skin. Triangular shaped spikes surrounded her head. “…spokesperson for the Eusian Matriarch said this was the single largest attack on their sovereignty in twenty years,” she said. “Does it trouble you a Federation Destroyer was used in this attack?”
“I’m greatly disturbed,” McMurrary said. The lines in his face ran deep. “The Federation doesn’t attack without provocation.”
“Sounds like he’s another lyin’ windbag based on what the Viceroy told us,” Evan grumbled. He was on his back under the Corvette, wearing his red outfit minus his sneakers. His feet were planted on the floor, knees up against the flaring side. Evan twisted a ratchet of his own, removing a panel.
“Makes me wonder if we should trust him.” Gunnar used a rubber hammer to gently tap apart sections of metal. Where he scratched an itch on his forehead and nose, Gunnar’s fingers left greasy smears.
“Does the Federation know who’s responsible for the destruction at HR 7162?”
“Not conclusively. The Destroyer was recently decommissioned.” McMurrary chose words carefully.
“Here it comes,” Gunnar said softly.
“The ship was registered to Raven Spade. Since there’s no direct evidence he was killed at The Wheel, Spade or any number of his affiliates could have--”
“What?” Evan said loudly. He pulled himself from under the Corvette’s hull and sprang up. “What did that bastard say about my dad?”
“Take it easy, sport,” Gunnar said, holding Evan back from the holographic projection.
“Nobody can survive a singularity, you stunted old geezer,” Evan directed to the Admiral’s projection.
“The F.F.P.’s gotta lay the blame on someone. Can’t tarnish their brass, you know. Best thing we can do is get the ‘Vette up and runnin’ so we can get on with clearin’ your dad’s name.”
Staring at the Admiral’s hologram, Evan heard Gunnar’s words. His eyes slowly drifted up to his uncle. “You’re right.” Evan’s body relaxed. “Let’s get crackin’.”
* * *
“I’m beat,” Evan said. He was slouched over, eyes half-closed, arms wrapped around his legs.
“Don’t give up on me now.” Gunnar yawned loudly. He was under the Corvette’s engines. He blinked his eyes several times and twisted his face around. “We’re almost done.”
“You said that four hours ago.” Evan lay his head on his knees. His eyes closed.
“You took a nap six hours ago and missed all the excitement. The Marauders hit a Federation Border Patrol at 31 Aquila. Got their asses kicked this time.” Gunnar tossed a grease rag at his nephew. “Found out their not so bad without their Destroyer backin’ ‘em up. You even missed Kolt’s call sendin’ us the Federation Intel.”
“Uh-uh.” Everything faded from Evan’s perceptions. He slipped down a long black tunnel. Overlapping images filled his brain for an unknown length of time. Evan’s muscles reflexively tightened when cold water shocked his system. With a huge gasp, Evan was standing, dripping wet. Gunnar grinned at him, holding an empty plastic bucket. “All done.”
“Ever hear of alarm clocks?” Shivering, Evan looked at the Corvette. The shiny hull looked brand new. “It’s beautiful,” he whispered. “You’re gonna let me fly it first, right?” Evan grinned at Gunnar.
“Let’s get cleaned up.” Gunnar’s hair was matted with oil. His face smeared with grease. His clothing covered with dirt. Evan didn’t look any better.
They went into a small room at the side of the garage where the sonic showers were. Gunnar touched the activation button and peeled of his shirt. Evan walked right in with his clothes on, letting the pulsing vibrations shake his body and break away the filth. “No wonder your dad had to get the air filters cleaned all the time,” Gunnar said.
“You sound just like him.”
“Goofy kid.”
* * *
High above the limb of the Earth, the yellow sun sparkled brilliantly off the Pacific Ocean. From the surface of the continents, slender shafts six hundred kilometers tall poked through Earth’s atmosphere and connected to an artificial ring system encircling the equator. From the position of the Federation Cruiser, Earth’s moon was positioned behind the planet. The night side of both bodies and the metallic ring glowed with campfire-like lights.
At the side of the main view port Evan leaned against the bulkhead, arms folded over his plasti-skin chest, his right foot pressed up against the frame under his butt. Gunnar paced in front of him. “As strict as the military is, you’d think an Admiral could keep an appointment,” he said.
“I wonder what’s so important we had to come like yesterday.” Evan scrolled through data in his headset lenses.
“Beats me, kid,” Gunnar shrugged.
“Don’t know why I gotta be here.”
“Partners. Remember?” Evan rolled his eyes. He dropped his foot.
Admiral McMurrary and Lieutenant General Kolt stopped next to them. “Gentlemen,” McMurrary said. Because of his gravelly voice, he sounded more gruff than intended.
“Admiral,” Gunnar nodded.
“That was some harsh b.s. you were