Solfleet: Beyond the Call

by Glenn Smith

“Good morning,” he said as she finished stretching.

  “Morning,” she replied sleepily. Then she asked, “What time is it?”

  “I don’t know exactly,” he answered as he turned back to what he was doing. “Still pretty early, though. The sky’s starting to get lighter, but the sun hasn’t risen yet. I’m surprised you’re awake already.”

  “Awake is such a subjective term,” she quipped.

  He started the coffee, then turned to face her and asked, “Want some orange juice?”

  “Mmm...” she began, thinking it over. And then she sat up suddenly and her blankets fell away from her chest, exposing her bare breasts as she answered, “Yes.”

  Nick hurriedly averted his eyes—as if he weren’t already uncomfortable enough sharing the room with her—rolling them as he turned quickly away. “Heather!”

  “What?” she inquired as though she hadn’t a clue what was wrong.

  “You know what, Heather,” he told her, staring at the coffee decanter as it slowly filled. “You can’t go to bed half-naked if we’re sharing a room.”

  “You’re my father,” she pointed out. “You’ve seen me naked lots of times before.”

  “Yeah, as a baby or a little girl, not as a young woman,” he reminded her.

  “I’m still the same girl, Dad,” she countered. “What’s the big deal?”

  “The big deal is that it’s not appropriate. Now please, get up and put something on.”

  She sighed. “All right, okay.”

  He heard her climb out of bed, then glanced back at her briefly, curious to know whether or not she’d worn anything to bed, and unsure whether or not he really wanted to know all at the same time. She had her back to him and was reaching for her robe, which she’d hung on her bedpost, and he saw before he quickly looked away again that at least she had worn a pair of panties—white, with some kind of flower print pattern. Unless, of course, she’d just pulled them on, but he chose to believe that she’d worn them all night. Not much, but better than nothing.

  He walked around the end of the counter and grabbed a clean glass off of the shelf on the side wall, then stepped over to the refrigerator, filled the glass with orange juice, and then asked, “Are you decent?”

  “Yes, Dad, I’m decent,” she answered.

  He faced around to find her standing right there on the other side of the counter. “Want to go out and watch the sunrise?” he suggested as he reached across and handed the glass of juice to her. She nodded as she accepted the glass, so he led her out onto the balcony.

  So what if he was still in his pajamas? It was early.

  The pre-dawn air was cool but not too cold, and there was no breeze of any consequence to add its chill, but Heather nonetheless set her juice down on the safety wall after taking only a single sip—the white wrought iron railing embedded along the center of the top of the wall left just enough room for the glass to sit against it without falling off—and then crossed her arms tightly beneath her breasts.

  “Too cold out here?” Nick asked her.

  “I’m all right,” she replied, looking like she might start shivering any second.

  The sky over the distant snow-capped peaks had grown lighter than that overhead, and as that morning glow slowly reached across the sky, untold numbers of birds began singing their morning songs to the coming day as they hid or flittered swiftly about the tangled branches of the tall trees standing otherwise undisturbed behind the old hedge-topped stone retaining wall across the street—a mixture of some kind of evergreen and two or three other species that had already filled out with their new spring foliage. The sun would rise from behind those distant mountains very soon.

  The street below was quiet, virtually deserted, though all the same cars of various makes and models and colors that had been parked there last night still filled the parking row that ran alongside the nearer lane. Every once in a while another car or truck or two drove quietly by, but that was it. There wasn’t really any traffic to speak of yet, and so far Nick hadn’t seen anyone outside. Odd for a nation of people who traditionally rose early, frowned heavily on tardiness, and tended to put in more than the average number of hours on the job every week. Maybe today was a national holiday or something. Then again, he hoped not. Otherwise the Botanical Gardens might not open, and Heather really wanted to visit them.

  “Here it comes,” Heather said.

  Nick glanced at his daughter—he still expected her to start shivering any moment—and then looked out across the gently undulating lake, beyond the city’s main residential zone on the other side with its clusters of modern housing and beautiful green lawns, beyond the thick forests and the rural towns to the foothills and the rocky, snow-capped peaks of the Swiss Alps, barely visible as one long, jagged silhouette.

  They stood quietly and watched the swollen morning sun slowly rise, a disk of blazing crimson gold beyond that silhouette that bathed the ridgeline in glistening orange as it climbed higher over the peaks, illuminating the terrain beyond the reach of the mountain shadows.

  Something off to the left and below caught Nick’s attention when it moved and he turned his eyes in that direction, moving his head as little as possible so as not to distract Heather. Something down at ground level, to the north, just beyond the intersection near the entrance to a small side road across the street. No, not something. Someone. A man, standing a few yards back from the main road. He appeared to be trying to stay out of sight—to be trying to hide behind the hedge-topped wall. He was just standing there doing nothing but looking around him in every direction. Looking suspicious, as far as Nick was concerned. His clothes were typical for a local resident—simple slacks, dark shoes, an open-collar button-down shirt, and a light coat—but that didn’t mean anything. Anyone working undercover would dress to blend in with the locals. He might just have been a local citizen, but then again he might not have. Nick wondered for a moment if he was just being paranoid, but then he asked himself... Why would a local citizen be standing there doing nothing, especially at dawn.

  “It’s beautiful,” Heather commented.

  “It certainly is,” he agreed, glancing at the sunrise only briefly. It really was quite a sight, the sun rising over the Swiss Alps, bathing the countryside. Had he not been distracted, he would have enjoyed watching it with her.

  The man below looked right up at him. Or did he? Nick couldn’t be sure. If he had, he’d only done so briefly. It might only have been a passing glance from a total stranger who’d just happened to notice them standing out on the balcony. Or it might have been nothing at all—just a glance in their general direction that looked like it was at them but really wasn’t. But perhaps it wasn’t either of those things. Perhaps the man really was watching them.

  Facing as straight as possible toward the rising sun, Nick continued watching the man out of the corner of his eye. The man looked up the street and down. He looked across the street, through the K-shaped intersection in front of the hotel’s entrance. And then he looked up again, toward them if not directly at them. But which was it? Was he looking right at them or not? Was he in fact watching them for some reason?

  Nick turned his head suddenly and looked straight at the man, and the man looked away at that very same moment. There it was. Nick had his answer. The man had been looking right at them. So the only questions that remained were ‘who’ and ‘why?’ Who was that man? Who was he working for, and why was he watching them? Had Nick been there alone he would have gone down there and confronted the man. He would have gotten those questions answered. But he wasn’t there alone. He had Heather with him, and keeping her safe took priority over all other concerns. With that in mind, the wiser course of action was to pretend he didn’t know they were being watched—to carry on with the day’s plans as though everything were fine.

  Traffic had picked up and was growing heavier. The good people of Geneva had finally started their day.

  He looked back at Heather, still watching the sunrise, and ask
ed, “Getting hungry?”

  “A little, yeah,” she answered.

  “Me, too. Let’s go get ready and go down to the restaurant for a nice breakfast. We have plenty of time before the gardens open.”

  She looked at him and smiled. “Okay.”

  So beautiful, Nick observed once more. Just like her mother. He stole one more quick glance at the man—he was strolling northward up the sidewalk, away from the hotel, leaving, his cover blown—then turned with his daughter and went back inside.

  * * *

  A few hours later, shaved and showered and dressed comfortably in casual tan slacks, a blue short-sleeved pullover shirt, and soft black shoes, and very well fed—the chefs working the early shift in the hotel restaurant sure knew how to whip up one hell of a good breakfast—Nick led Heather out of the hotel into what had brightened into a gorgeous mid-spring morning. The temperature had risen with the sun that now burned bright yellow in the eastern sky, but a steady breeze blowing gently in from the north-northwest was keeping the air dry and pleasant, carrying upon it a trace of floral aroma, no doubt coming from the Botanical Gardens they were on their way to visit, which lay in that general direction. Heather had donned another of her new outfits—a blue denim skirt that was a little on the short side but reasonable, a beige tank top that didn’t cling too tightly to her body, and soft brown flat-soled shoes—and Nick, much to his surprise and satisfaction, couldn’t find a thing about it not to approve of. She’d also pinned her hair back on the sides so that it hung behind her shoulders and cascaded down her back, much the way her mother had often done. Stunning. Still three months shy of her sixteenth birthday, she looked less like a teenage girl and more like a young woman every day. More importantly, at least as far as Nick was concerned, she was finally acting more like a young woman as well. Despite all the trouble she’d gotten herself into over the last several years, Nick couldn’t have felt more pleased or more proud.

  Or more apprehensive, he admitted to himself as they turned right onto the sidewalk and started walking toward the corner, noticing how she attracted the attention of several young men as they walked by—reading the lustful looks they threw her way. She really was growing into a very attractive young woman, and that meant... boys. Young men. The archenemy of every man who had ever raised a daughter. No doubt she was going to want to start dating very soon, if she hadn’t already, behind his back.

  But that would come later. Not a lot later to be sure, but later. Today was their day, and all was right in the world. He had his daughter’s love and respect as evidenced by her choice of clothing that met with his approval, he had an entire day to spend with her, and the weather had turned out to be perfect for their visit to the Botanical Gardens. Now, if whoever was watching them would just leave them alone to enjoy their time together...

  That might have been too much to ask, he realized as soon as they reached the corner and turned left to head up the Rue de Lausanne. They’d barely begun to cross the intersection when he spotted another suspicious looking man standing and looking around on that same corner near the mouth of that same small side road. Like the man he’d seen standing there earlier, this one was dressed in typical local attire, but again, that didn’t mean anything. Traffic was heavier and there were a lot of people out on the street now, heading in one direction or another as they went about their business. Some of them glanced briefly at him and Heather as they passed and others didn’t—Heather, of course, continued drawing those other looks from some of the younger men who passed close by—but as Nick kept an eye on that man in particular, he seemed to go out of his way not to look back at him. That alone was suspicious enough as far as Nick was concerned, perhaps even worthy of direct confrontation. But again, he had Heather with him, and he wasn’t going to do anything that might put her in danger. So, deciding instead not to reveal to the man that he’d spotted him and not wanting to frighten Heather, he stopped staring, said nothing, and kept on walking beside his daughter at the same leisurely pace they’d already set as though he didn’t have a care in the world.

  They had only passed the first few storefronts when Nick spotted a pair of men jogging across the street together from the other side about a hundred feet ahead. Another pair remained behind, standing at the end of the driveway the first pair had crossed from, and when the joggers reached the sidewalk directly ahead, they turned left and slowed to a brisk walk, approaching him and Heather. And then something else caught his attention. All four of them, the joggers and the two in the driveway, were wearing lightweight jackets, as was the man standing back at that corner. On a bright, sunny spring morning that had grown warm enough for short sleeves, those five men were all wearing jackets.

  They were hiding something. Hell... they were armed.

  Maybe.

  Nick reached up behind Heather and laid his hand gently on her shoulder, but still didn’t say anything. Not yet. Not until he felt absolutely sure that he had to act. She glanced up at him and smiled, no doubt thinking that he was just being an affectionate father, and that was fine. He even smiled back at her to reinforce that belief. Then, when she turned her gaze forward again, he shifted his back to the two men in the driveway. No doubt about it. They were looking right at him, not even trying to hide the fact. He looked at the two approaching from ahead. They, too, appeared to be looking right at him and Heather, though to be fair they were walking toward them and would obviously want to watch where they were going, no matter who they were. Still, though he couldn’t be a hundred percent sure they were facing a threat, he was sure enough now to risk taking evasive action, just in case.

  “I’m sorry, Heather, we have to go back to the room,” he told her as he stopped suddenly and pivoted in place as he walked her around him. “I forgot something.”

  “What did you forget?” she asked him as he picked up their pace and started walking her back toward the hotel. But her question fell on deaf ears. Nick had already turned his attention to the man who’d been standing by the side road across the street. He’d crossed behind them after they passed and was walking right toward them.

  He grabbed Heather by the wrist and told her to, “C’mon,” as he pulled her along behind him into the street.

  “Where are we going?!” she asked as they squeezed between two parked cars and rushed across the first southbound lane, stopping short on the dashed white line to let a car speed past in the second lane before they hurried across to the foot-tall median that divided those lanes from the two that ran north and doubled as a block-long flower box.

  “This way,” her father answered without answering as he stepped up and over the median and then paused to help her do the same.

  “What’s going on?!” she then asked, growing frightened as her father pulled her on into the northbound lanes, where they had to dodge three cars and a small truck before they finally made it across to the sidewalk on the other side. “Dad!” she shouted when he didn’t answer.

  “Not now, Heather,” he replied calmly, keeping his own emotions under control.

  Two more men appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, right where the first one had been standing. That made seven of them, and when Nick stopped in his tracks and held Heather close against him and looked around, he saw that all seven of them were closing in fast. They had him and Heather surrounded, and there was nowhere left to run.

  “Dad?” Heather intoned, fear evident in her voice. No doubt by now she’d realized these men were coming after them. “What’s happening?”

  “I don’t know, sweetheart,” he answered honestly, adding, “but they won’t try anything too drastic out here in public with all these people around.” He didn’t mention that no one around them even seemed to have noticed that anything unusual was going on.

  “Admiral Hansen?” one of the men called to him as they all closed in together.

  “Who?” Nick asked in returned.

  “Vice-Admiral Icarus Hansen,” the same man clarified as he and his comrades formed a semi
-circle around them while standing off by about ten feet.

  “I’m afraid you have me confused with someone else,” Nick told him as he gently pushed Heather behind him, putting her between him and the stone wall, but the disbelieving expression that found its way to the man’s face when he said it told him that he’d only wasted his breath. The man wasn’t buying it at all.

  “No, sir, I don’t,” the man replied, proving to Nick that he’d read the man’s expression correctly. “You are Vice-Admiral Icarus Hansen, retired, former chief of the Solfleet Intelligence Agency, and that lovely young lady you’re protecting is your fifteen year old daughter, Heather, who completed her schoolwork early to free herself up for your move to Colorado Springs.”

  Whoever these men were, the one doing all the talking wasn’t asking him who he was. He was telling him. He knew. He had the facts and he was sure of them. For Nick to deny who he was any further would only be an exercise in futility. “All right, so you know who I am,” he said, “and you know who my daughter is, and you know where we’re moving. So who are you? What do you want?”

  “It’s not important that you know our names,” the man told him. “In fact, it’s probably better that you don’t... for all of us. I will tell you, though, that you don’t need to protect your daughter from us. We pose no threat to her or to you.”

  “How do I know I can believe that?”

  “I’m authorized to give you one name. The name of the man who sent us to find you. The name of the man we’re all working for.”

  “What name is that?”

  “Lieutenant Commander Roderick Johnson.”

  “Lieutenant...” he began to reply, surprised. Lieutenant Roderick Johnson, the youngest son of one of his old academy classmates. A young agent—one of the best in the S.I.A., in fact—who’d been assigned to the Rosha’Kana sector when the Veshtonn drove the Tor’Kana out. The agent who’d informed him of the starcruiser Rapier’s discoveries all those months ago, both bad and good. “...Roderick Johnson?”