Star Crusades Nexus: The Third Trilogy

by Michael G. Thomas

  “We are out of Terra Nova controlled airspace and into orbit. Please leave your magclamps on until we reach our cruising speed,” said the pilot over the vessel’s intercom.

  The liner wasn’t the only craft making its way from Terra Nova. A group of four Lightning fighters, each in the color scheme of the Presidential escort unit moved close by. They all matched the liner beautifully in terms of colors and insignia. They had been waiting aboard one of the many orbiting defense platforms placed at different heights around the planet. Each of the fighters was configured for space travel and combat only, and they would lack the fuel or power to continue with the liner on its journey, if it intended on traveling to another planet in the Alpha Centauri System. Instead, they followed as escort, making sure the craft made it safely out of reach of the planet.

  “Fighter escort is in formation and watching us out. ETA to the Sol Rift is three hours, seven minutes.”

  The mood aboard the small liner was far from a happy one even though they had escaped completely unscathed. Governor Trelleck sat in one of the many large lounge chairs and directly opposite President Harrison. Unlike Trelleck, President Harrison was nervous and checked the large windows for signs of trouble. The Governor, on the other hand, simply paged through something on his secpad as though this was a day like any other. At one point, he stopped and looked up to the ceiling.

  “I like your ship, Mr. President. Can I assume the Senate voted for it? It was a very wise move on their part.”

  President Harrison tightened his brow and looked back to the man.

  “What? What did you say?”

  Governor Trelleck smiled, that officious, polite smile that he knew was actually anything but polite.

  “I asked about your ship. I understand you have designated this as your official Presidential transport. Did the Senate vote for it? Also, why not change the name?”

  The President shook his head.

  “What? No, of course not. There is no need for them to vote. It is not necessary.”

  The Governor smiled again.

  “Why, of course.”

  He looked back to his secpad and left the President fuming from within the comfort of his own mobile palace. Unlike military ships, this vessel had been constructed specifically for executive travel and short to medium distance excursions. Comfort and views were much more important than any other concerns. Governor Trelleck looked out of the window as the craft began a slow spiral. The view of the planet shifted to show the stars, the Spacebridge, and even the odd freighter moving through orbit.

  “Impressive, very impressive.”

  The President turned about and brought his fist down hard on the small oak table. If there had been anything on it, the objects might have moved, but the only thing in sight was the Governor’s secpad, and even that device was resting in his hands, not on the beautifully stained wood.

  “Are you all right, Mr. President?” he asked, with a special emphasis on his title, “You seem a little, well, a little agitated?”

  The President looked at him as a small globule of fluid dripped from the corner of his mouth. Normally, it would have fallen down, but now it just sat there until he moved his head. The small ball drifted off to the side and vanished inside the spacecraft.

  “The traitors. I thought you said Johnson and the others had been dealt with?”

  Sitting next to Governor Trelleck was Major Grant, the commander of the President’s security detail, and he looked almost as comfortable as the Earthsec Governor, much to President Harrison’s annoyance.

  “We were lied to by several of the ministers within the government, Sir. I told you that a group of the Senators were plotting something.”

  President Harrison pointed at him and shook his head.

  “Yes, and I had each of them arrested and brought before our military tribunal. The ringleaders paid the price out on the palace lawns, to the cheers of the crowds.”

  Major Grant raised an eyebrow to this.

  “Well, Sir, they were the men behind the attempt to get your term as Magister Populi removed. There were others, though.”

  “Who?”

  “Senator Yatsenyuk, Minster for Science and Education. She has been speaking with the Biomechs from Prometheus and Hyperion over the last three months. You recall her attempts to get them to send their own senators to Terra Nova.”

  President Harrison shook his head.

  “No, I don’t remember. This Senator Yatsenyuk is a traitor to her own blood. None of these Biomechs has any place in our domain. Terra for Terrans, that is what I have always believed.”

  Governor Trelleck curled his lip a fraction, forming the barest glimmer of a smile.

  “I can assure you, Sir, that on Old Terra, we do not have this problem.”

  President Harrison was in no mood to be lectured by the old man, not today.

  “Really, Old Terra, the radiated wasteland that was abandoned centuries ago? There is a reason so many fled for the new worlds, Governor. It is a hole not worthy of the effluence I flush down my toilet.”

  There were a handful of others inside the craft, most coming from various departments in the government that answered directly to the new office of Magister Populi. Right at the back was a single unit of eight Colonial Guards, still dressed in their full battle attire. There was one strange omission, though, and it had taken this long before even President Harrison noticed.

  “Wait a minute. Where the hell is Trajchevski? He was supposed to be with us.”

  He twisted around and found the harness stopped him from fully turning. He went to reach for the maglock clamp, but Major Grant lifted his hand to warn him.

  “Mr. President, we are still in the acceleration phase. You don’t want to take off your harness until we’re clear. Zero gravity will occur once the engines deactivate at cruising speed.”

  The two men looked at each other, but no more words were said. Governor Trelleck looked out of the window and to the sight of the ever so slow, shrinking world. Terra Nova looked much like Earth had once been; lush green and filled with life. It was something he’d never seen, though, and Terra Nova just reminded him of the weakness and corruption he’d come to expect.

  “So, how do you intend on spending your exile from the almighty Terra Nova?” he finally asked.

  The sarcasm in the Governor’s voice was plain to hear, especially the odd way he said the word ‘Terra’. President Harrison looked at him and then to the Major.

  “I want to know where the hell Kocho Trajchevski is?”

  The man swallowed as if there was something uncomfortable in his throat.

  “He took a shuttle twelve minutes before we left the Senate building.”

  “What? And only now you are telling me this?”

  The President’s face was already beginning to change color.

  “Are you telling me that Trajchevski, my most senior officer, chose to leave before us? Why? Was he forced to go, or did he deliberately leave us behind?”

  Major Grant raised his shoulders in confusion but said no more. The President began muttering before stopping and then moving data about on the screen in front of him. He quickly came to the latest reports from the Alliance News Network. There were multiple stories coming in from many parts of the Alliance. The most prominent was the buildup at Micaya. His attention was focused on that for a moment, and he might have even forgotten about his own dilemma, if only for a minute or two.

  “So Anderson’s great plan is to cut me out of the loop and send everything to Micaya. And he announces it to everybody. I thought he knew what he was doing. So why do this?”

  He was talking to himself, and neither of the other two bothered to answer. He then went through other stories, with one in particular describing the fighting of the allied forces throughout Helios. The videostream was from a reporter embedded in a mountain on Spascia. The camera spun around and pointed to lines of marines, machines, and aliens. They were dug into trenches while more machines moved
about carrying ammunition.

  “Aliens. We have no business getting involved in their war.”

  He struck the unit, and this time the story was much closer to home. The first feed showed the burning Senate building.”

  “Good, so we got it in the end.”

  Governor Trelleck and Major Grant watched the President as he savored the moments of his opponents’ death or mutilation. Neither man seemed to like what they were seeing. As he watched, his expression turned from childish glee.

  “What, they say I have fled the city, and my supporters have been captured and imprisoned?”

  He looked up, but something even more significant caught his eye. He watched the videostream of the plaza, presumably recorded in the last few hours. It showed the site of the sculpture, as well as the bodies on the ground. The camera moved in closer, and he could make out the voice of the man talking.

  “Intelligence Director Johnson, I knew he would be the death of me.”

  The image vanished, pulsing white before being replaced by one of a man wearing a flight suit and helmet. The man looked nervous, like many of those on board the space liner.

  “Mr. President, we’re receiving a message from a nearby ship.”

  “What ship?”

  The pilot looked away and checked something. The colored shapes reflected on his visor, but it was too blurred for him to make out any specifics.

  “It is the recently reactivated ANS Meteor. She’s one of the retired frigates that fought in the Uprising.”

  “Meteor?” said the President.

  He thought long and hard but couldn’t place the ship. There was something about it that gnawed at him.

  “Sir, it’s Mr. Trajchevski. He says it is urgent.”

  The mention of his recently promoted advisor quickly snapped him out of it.

  “Put him on.”

  The pilot’s face vanished and was replaced by the smartly dressed man.

  “Mr. Harrison,” he said in a stern tone, “I didn’t expect to see you off-world.”

  “President Harrison,” corrected the President.

  Both men looked at each other for what felt like an eternity. In the last few days, there had been nothing but pleasantries between the two of them. Everything had changed, and the President was beginning to feel cornered and even a little claustrophobic. It was Mr. Trajchevski that spoke first.

  “Have you seen the news reports from below?”

  He shook his head as though scolding a naughty child.

  “Quite frankly, I am stunned at what I am seeing. They are showing footage of your troops storming government buildings, killing agents, and attacking senators. These are yours, are they not? The Colonial Guard?”

  For a few seconds, his face moved away to show footage of the violence below.

  “Senator Yatsenyuk has called for your impeachment, and I have already been in touch with her to offer my full support. I fear your term as President is over.”

  The President shook his head angrily.

  “No, I have a term of office that cannot, and will not, be halted. I have work to do, and your attempt to undermine my powerbase has already failed.”

  It was then that he noticed the other civilians around Mr. Trajchevski. He recognized at least one of the senators from the planet. There was even a press crew with him, as well as a camera that seemed to be pointing right back at him.

  “I managed to get some of the senators out of there, prior to your assault on our citizens. I just wish I could have been there quicker to try and halt these excesses. I had no idea how far you were willing to go to achieve total control.”

  He rubbed at his forehead.

  “I will, of course, hand myself in as soon as this crisis is over, but I have already offered my resignation. I had no interest in this power grab of yours, only a chance to make the Alliance stronger and safer.”

  He pointed to the screen.

  “As for you, well, I think we all know what is going to happen when…”

  A bright flash from the window caused the photosensitive material to darken for a brief moment. All three of the men looked out toward the Rift as a small group of warships came though. The first to arrive was a battered looking Crusader. At this distance, they could make out the shapes of every one of them. The screen changed color and was quickly replaced by the image of an Alliance officer.

  “This is Admiral Churchill, of the warship ANS Wolverine. By order of the emergency Senate Committee, under the control of Senator Yatsenyuk, I order all ships in this sector to power down and prepare to be boarded. The Terra Nova Sector is back under Alliance control.”

  The acceleration of the liner quickly stopped, and it proceeded to drift, giving its passengers a complete lack of gravity. As with all vessels of this type, not a single object in the craft was loose, and nothing could detach unless specifically removed beforehand. Governor Trelleck and Major Grant looked to the President, and then to each other.

  “This is madness,” said President Harrison. We cannot just let them come aboard and take us prisoner.”

  Throughout the craft there were men and women releasing their harnesses and pulling themselves toward the lifeboat points. One, an older woman in the uniform of the internal police unit from the capital, looked to the President; and then quickly away before following the others. President Harrison scowled as they left.

  “Like rats, each of you, deserting the sinking ship.”

  “What are your intentions, Governor?” asked the Major.

  The two men looked at each other suspiciously. On one hand they had both pledged to work with the President. Both were also perfectly well aware that the politic sphere had just shifted against all of them.

  “I’ve had enough of all this intrigue. I will return to Earth, just as intended. It would appear that you have your own problems to resolve out here, and this is not a particular area of expertise to me.”

  The Major slid his hand down to his leg, but the Governor shook his head.

  “No, keep your hands on the table.”

  Major Grant considered his words carefully. There was no way to see what the man had under the table even though they were sitting next to each other. The Governor had pushed one hand under his own tunic, but he could feel something metallic pressed against his thigh. The only assumption he could realistically make was that it was a weapon of some kind. There was also the chance that the man was doing nothing more than simply bluffing.

  “What’s going on here?”

  President Harrison sighed and then nodded to his protector.

  “I think we are seeing the Governor for the man that he truly is. Traitors surround us when what we need is to regroup and prepare for a new offensive. Our ships at Prometheus are just what we need.”

  The gunshot seemed to boom through the craft. Blood splattered against the wall and window, and then it was followed by three more. The body of Major Grant slumped about, but the magclamp kept him firmly in place. Governor Trelleck lifted his hands to the table and rested the pistol on the oak ledge.

  “Now, I think it is time to discuss the future, don’t you?”

  The President looked at him, speechless for the first time. Governor Trelleck ran his finger along his cheek and then smiled. It was a short, intentionally fake smile, designed to annoy Harrison who tried to push forward.

  “Ah, no, you can stay right there.”

  “We have an Alliance boarding party at the aft airlock. I am granting them access, now,” said the pilot over the intercom.

  There was a gentle vibration as the collar from the new arrival mated with that on the liner. All the while this continued, the pistol sat and waited on the table. President Harrison was already facing the airlock entrance from his grand looking seat, whereas the Governor was masked by his own seat. Another set of clunks shook the vessel, and then a loud hiss.

  “Step aside, and lower and deactivate your weapons,” said a stern voice.

  Shapes moved through the a
irlock as four marines entered. They wore standard issue PDS armor and carried coilguns in their arms. The first two looked about and then spotted their target.

  “Mr. President?” Governor Trelleck asked.

  The man’s eyes turned back to look at the man he had so recently called friend.

  “Catch.”

  With a quick movement that was hidden from the marine, he pushed the pistol and released it. The weapon drifted across the table and up into the air. It was an old trick, the kind of thing one might expect from a child or some sibling’s argument. In the heat of the moment, even an educated and experienced man such as President Harrison could still be fooled by it. Seeing the weapon as his only way out, he reacted without thinking, as almost any person might. The gun was already at head height and moving away when the President reached for it.

  “He’s got a gun!” yelled the Governor.

  The man ducked down just as Harrison grabbed the weapon and pointed it at him. From the angle of where he was sitting, and the position of the Governor, it looked as though he was aiming it toward the airlock. He quickly realized his mistake, but not before the rounds from the coilguns struck him. These were the low-power subsonic rounds designed for stealth operations or for working aboard ships. The first hit his neck, and two then struck his lead arm. The pistol fired and punched into the skin of the liner. On any other vessel, it might have penetrated, but the round somehow embedded in a layered bulkhead and did no more than dent the material.

  “Get a medical team in here fast. We’ve got gunshots!” said the leader of the squad.

  They moved through the vessel and toward the cowering Governor, who kept his head down and hands up.”

  “Are you hurt?” asked the marine.

  The Governor looked up and shook his head.