The Centaurus Legacy (The Adventures of Heck Thomas)

by Tom Bielawski

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  A Word About Cystic Fibrosis

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  About this book

  About the author

  More from...me

  The Centaurus Legacy

  By Tom Bielawski

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters and events portrayed in this novel are products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to real persons or events is purely coincidental.

  A Tide of Shadows

  Copyright 2011 by Tom Bielawski

  All rights reserved.

  Cover art created and copyrighted by Tom Bielawski

  www.facebook.com/thechroniclesofllars

  www.tombielawski.com

  Though I walk through the valley

  of the shadow of death, I fearn no evil

  for You are with me -Psalm 23:4.

  For my wife, my best friend.

  For Connor and Carleigh who keep

  me looking to the stars.

  A word about Cystic Fibrosis (CF):

  I am a CF Dad; someone I love needs a cure.

  CF is a genetic, inherited, disease that affects the lungs and digestive systems of about 30,000 children and adults in the United States, and 70,000 worldwide. A defective gene and its protein product cause the body to produce unusually thick and sticky mucus that:

  clogs the lungs and leads to life-threatening lung infections;

  obstructs the pancreas and stops the natural enzymes from helping the body break down and absorb food.

  This disease used to be a death sentence. Now, more and more people with CF are living into their 30's, 40's and beyond. And that is thanks in large part to organizations like Cystic Fibrosis Foundation (CFF) and others who have supported and driven the research community with awesome fundraisers, studies, and media attention.

  Please support CFF.org, Cystic Life (cysticlife.org), Boomer Esiason Foundation (esiason.org), or any other great organization that is helping to fight this terrible disease. Thank you.

  Prologue

  In the 1960’s, treaties regarding colonialism in space were established, preventing nations from claiming new territory for themselves on the Moon, on Mars, and other parts of the solar system. European communism began its decline in the late 1980’s with Poland and culminated in 1991 with the breakup of the Soviet Union. The two largest and most aggressive space programs on Earth faltered. Advances in space travel were few and little importance was placed on human exploration of space, or on exploiting the resources of the solar system around us.

  In the early part of the 21st Century, great conflict arose among scientists who were divided over a critical issue. It was difficult to dispute that the Earth’s climate was changing. However, agreement could not be found as to the source of these changes. Many scientists believed humans were the cause, or were at least aggravating the situation; while other scientists believed these current climate changes reflected continuing trends of heating and cooling that had taken place over millions of years. This great debate triggered widespread trends in the private and public sectors alike; going green was becoming a popular money-making jingle with corporations and politicians alike. Heavy attention was brought to the use of one of the Earth’s most valuable natural resources: petroleum. It was, for the most part, agreed that petroleum was a finite resource and sooner or later dependence on this resource would have to be weaned. The discord stemmed from those who believed the weaning must occur sooner, and at all costs, as opposed to those who felt a later and gradual reduction on petroleum dependency was the optimum course to choose, while viable alternatives were being explored at a safer pace.

  By the dawn of the 22nd Century, populous countries like China and India caused a massive drain on the Earth’s petroleum resources. Viable alternatives to petroleum energy for transportation had not been found anywhere on Earth. But an interesting discovery was made by an astronomer using an advanced, highly scientific, Earth-orbiting telescope. Exploration of the often overlooked Asteroid Belt revealed several dwarf planets similar in size to Ceres and other large asteroids, which had the potential of yielding large quantities of an element that could be used to create a very efficient fuel cell.

  A new space race began, followed by what was called the Energy Rush of the 22nd Century. The great distances of space, and the great lengths of time to travel around the solar system, led to advances in high-speed space travel engines; engines that could run for years on fuel cell technology without interruption. Exploration of space boomed with the discovery of more and more precious metals, gems, and other desirable resources on the Moon, Mars, and in the Asteroid Belt. Massive space stations housing hundreds, thousands, even tens of thousands of people were built to support those who wanted to make their fortunes in space. Colonies were established in the most hospitable places of the solar system as advances in artificial gravity technology and terraforming made the Moon, Mars, Europa, and Titan more Earthlike. Like the Gold Rush of the 1800’s, fortunes were made and economies thrived.

  But a plague threatened to cripple the great successes made by those notable pioneers of the 22nd Century, and that plague was crime.

  The international treaties signed in the 1960’s, largely in hopes of averting a nuclear war, had the unintended effect of making space a zone where nations could not ‘claim’ new territory and therefore could not protect their interests with military might. Piracy was on the rise, and shipping routes were under constant threat of hijacking and theft. Crime families took over, or influenced, companies doing business in areas they ‘protected.’ Profits were lost, and companies went out of business.

  Economies on Earth began to suffer under rising prices. Unwilling to abandon the ancient treaties, governments chose to commission mercenary outfits and privateers to protect their interests. But the job was too dangerous and the privateers were no match for the well-funded and heavily armed criminals in space.

  The answer to this problem came in the form of an offshoot of the failed United Nations. This offshoot, called the Commonwealth of Space-Faring Nations (CSN), had originally been created as an entity to oversee trade and economics among its member states. But as things in space became desperate, a move was made to form a military arm of the Commonwealth to police space and interdict crime.

  The CSN formed a fleet of large spacecraft capable of projecting a forward military force anywhere in the solar system it chose to go. Following the model of former US President Theodore Roosevelt, the CSN chose the approach of “speak softly but carry a big stick,” when dealing with crime in space. The array of spacecraft was impressive, though not large enough in number to secure the entire solar system. As the Inner System became safer, criminals were forced to move into and beyond the Asteroid Belt.

  Seeing a rising similarity between the Old West of the United States and the criminal climate of the solar system, the Commonwealth decided to augment their crime-fighting ability in much the same way the Old West did. A force of s was commissioned and each Commonwealth Marshal had the power to commission his own Commonwealth Deputy Marshals, fully licensed and empowered to enforce laws and hunt fugitives.

  The year is 2190. And this is the story of one those men...

  Chapter O
ne

  Marshal Henrick Thomas and his partner Deputy Marshal Stephen W. Doolin strapped into their chairs aboard their ship, which they affectionately called Sixkiller, one of the Old West’s most feared lawmen.

  “Nav and weapons systems active, Heck.”

  “Thanks, Dooly. Pilot controls active.”

  The pair patiently waited as Sixkiller was gently swiveled 180 degrees in their slip aboard the Moon’s Roosevelt Orbital Station, also called ‘ROS.’ Rotation complete, Sixkiller now faced the end of the runway; a long tunnel that led to open space. Stars glimmered into view and the men prepared for what would be the worst three seconds of their flight.

  “Hang on…”

  Heck grunted at the needless comment. He always hated this part. A series of delicate chimes counted down to the dreaded launch procedure. Five, four, three, two, one.

  Sixkiller jolted forward, pinning the men into their seats as it hurtled down the tunnel toward the stars beyond. Each man grimaced as the incredible g-force pinned them to their seats before finally escaping ROS’s artificial gravity and shooting out into open space.

  “Damn!”

  “I know. Every, damn, time,” groaned Heck. “I swear it’s like being hit in the stomach with a sledgehammer.”

  The two shook off the pain and disorientation and focused on the task at hand. Heck peered down at the Moon below, its bright green forests and blue seas visible through a blanket of clouds, the largest city in New Florida Protectorate, Freecity, was abuzz with life. Terraforming and artificial gravity plating were a huge business and the Inner System proved to be a very successful testing ground. The Moon and Mars were so successful that terraformers had used their knowledge and devised a way to blast Venus’ cloud cover into space, allowing it to cool to more hospitable temperatures. That was still a work in progress, however.

  “What’s happening, Dooly?” he asked with a sigh.

  “First National Bank of Moon Colony in the protectorate of New Florida was just knocked over.”

  “Police reports?” Heck nimbly rolled Sixkiller as a wayward tour bus wandered off its approved flight path, and cursed under his breath.

  “New Florida Police are reporting the Ryevolutzia is responsible. Eye witnesses saw Ryevolutzia cruisers with the old Soviet hammer and sickle emblem fleeing the scene.”

  “That’s a big gang. Who did the job this time?”

  “Yulia Kharkov.”

  Heck grunted in response. Nothing more needed to be said about her. She was the most notorious, and most wanted, felon in the Ukrainian Mafia, which numbered nearly one thousand.

  “What about the Bureau?” Heck asked, anticipating a turf war.

  “The usual. Commonwealth Bureau of Investigation waited for the local police to gather all the evidence, security records, and witness statements before swooping in to take over the case.”

  Heck grunted again. Both he and his partner had been local police for years before joining the Commonwealth Marshals Service. The CBI, or the Bureau, was the main law enforcement arm of the Commonwealth and was well known for stealing good cases from local and national police in order to take credit for captures and lobby for funding. Not to mention seizing valuable assets from the criminals that would be better served in the hands of local law enforcement. It was a long tradition that went back to the days of the old FBI.

  “Some things never change.”

  “True. But that ain’t our problem anymore,” Dooly replied with a smile. “We got us a warrant!”

  Heck had a gleam in his eye. Whatever the CBI or local police chose to do with this case mattered little to him now. As long as there was an arrest warrant for Yulia, they could bypass the CBI and go after her themselves.

  “Dooly, do a point-recognition scan please; I want to be sure.”

  “Right.”

  When the Commonwealth was formed, the law enforcement community lobbied for the reinstatement of the use of point-recognition along with DNA, finger print and voice and eye scans; all to catalogue every prisoner who was arrested. These were widely used in the days before space colonization, but fell into disuse with no central authority to control and catalogue the data. But fifty years into the Commonwealth’s existence, there was still plenty of data to identify suspects with.

  Face-point recognition was a great tool and hard to beat. When a prisoner was arrested, a three-dimensional scan of the entire body would be taken. The scan assigned a grid system which mapped every micrometer of a person’s body, cataloging every unique and distinguishing feature. These 3-D scans are so unique that even three square centimeters of exposed skin contain enough unique microscopic identifying features to positively identify a suspect.

  “Yulia. Dead to rights.”

  “Excellent. Please send our regards to Moon Police Service for putting that warrant in so quickly.”

  “You got it. What’s even better is that the warrant was issued under Moon Police Service authority; no mention of CBI jurisdiction at all!”

  Heck laughed. “Meaning that the CBI can investigate whatever they want, Moon Police Service will get the spoils no matter what.”

  “Just got a message in from Moon Police Service Headquarters,” called Dooly, his holocomputer dancing with lights and dinging chimes. “They have a vector on Kharkov’s ship. Detective Espinosa wants to link up and join us in the chase.”

  “Fine with me. Moon Police Orbital Station?”

  “Yep.”

  “Ok. But I don’t want to waste any time docking and launching from there. I’m sure Kharkov is heading for the Asteroid Belt. Tell Espinoza we will meet twenty clicks out from the station. We can lock on to the cruiser’s sally port, load up, and go from there.”

  “Roger.”

  ***

  CBI Special Agent In Charge Gem Revelier stood outside the office of City Hall, Freecity, New Florida Protectorate. The weather was hot and humid, very much like Florida on Earth. He was sweating in his business suit; and that was one thing Special Agent In Charge Gem Revelier detested. He stalked down the steps from City Hall to his waiting surface cruiser, sleek and black with tinted windows and an impressive array of blue lights behind the windshield. A detachment of special agents from CBI stood protectively around the cruiser, short-barreled automatic weapons in hand.

  “I’m sorry, sir. They beat us to it,” offered Special Agent Dave Hall, miserably. Revelier glared at his subordinate as they reached the surface cruiser, waiting for Hall to open the door for him. Hall did as expected and Revelier slid into the back seat of his air-conditioned cruiser, where he loosened his tie and poured himself a glass of brandy. Hall climbed into the front passenger seat and the cruiser slid smoothly into drive, hovering as it moved forward along the Freecity Highway.

  “We have five open cases on Yulia’s crew, Hall. Five! How the hell did they get that warrant before the Commonwealth Judge without us knowing?” he demanded. Hall studiously avoided answering the question and concentrated on the route, nervously wiping sweat from his brow. Hall knew exactly how it happened but he wasn’t about to add to his boss’ ire by telling him.

  “When I find out who the scumbag was that let this slip by, I’ll have him working as a bilge-rat on Commonwealth Fleet cruisers in the Outer System!”

  “Yes, sir,” Hall agreed meekly. Hall was deathly afraid of Revelier, and with good reason. The man was a brutal tyrant and more than one person who displeased him found themselves dead, or so far from civilization they’d wished they were dead. Revelier haled from Old France, on Earth, and had very high connections in the Commonwealth government. He was short, nasty, mean and many people thought he looked like Napoleon; he certainly acted like him. Neither the Director nor ministers of Parliament would mess with Revelier, and the Director knew Revelier was looking for a promotion.

  “Get me the Chief of Police!” shouted Revelier. “I’m gonna chew his ass.”

  “Yes, sir.” Hall sighed. The Chief of Moon Police Service was a shrewd man and a great cop. H
e’d taken in many of the Inner System’s most wanted in his younger years as a Commonwealth Marshal. He was smart too, smarter than Revelier. Chief Reginald Chin would never consent to an ass-chewing by the Bureau, and would very quickly put Revelier in his place. Which only meant that this televid call would leave Revelier even more pissed off than before.

  This is going to be a very long day, thought Hall as he punched in the code to begin a televid call.

  ***

  Sixkiller slid smoothly alongside the cruiser belonging to Detective Espinosa, Moon Police Service. The cruiser was smaller than his own Marshals Service Cruiser, having enough room for a crew of three and a small cell that could accommodate two prisoners. Sixkiller could operate at full capacity with a crew of five Marshals. It had heavier weapons and hull armor, a small sleeping and living space for the crew, and a cell that could accommodate five prisoners. It was made for long range missions.

  Moon Police Service cruisers were maneuverable and very fast but rarely traveled beyond Roosevelt Orbital Station. They were armed with missiles, harpoons, a pair of automatic weapons, and the Phalanx, which was a newly invented defensive weapon outfitted on all Commonwealth spacecraft. Its purpose was to create a protective shell of plasma energy around the cruiser in the event of overwhelming enemy fire. It could annihilate almost any projectile weapon and the plasma field was strong enough to dissipate most laser cannon fire. Small probes, which could extend from the cruiser’s hull on command, would pass the plasma energy to each other along the entire length of the craft creating a grid-like field around it. But the system was very costly in its consumption of fuel cells and could only sustain itself in short bursts; a last ditch, Hail Mary weapon, if there ever was one.