“I guess that goes for pirates, too.”
“Actually that’s our job. That’s why we fly this heavily armed little monster. We are the pirate killers protecting our convoys.”
“We haven’t had much trouble with pirates have we? Other than that once?”
“That’s because we give them a chance to leave peacefully. As soon as we know there are pirates in the area, we warn them off. Three ships like ours go with each convoy and we can kill a lot of pirates between us. Pirates aren’t stupid. They run from fights they can’t win. Getting killed is bad for business.”
“What about the Third Force? Couldn’t they attack us if we were all together?”
“Fiona, sweetheart, we are the Third Force.”
“WHAT!?”
“Fiona, you are the fourth generation of the Third Force.”
Fiona sat in stunned silence. “That explains a lot, the glass recon drones, the cargoes going to mysterious points in space, the secrecy. But if we’re so powerful, why have we been quiet for so long?”
“It’s history lesson time. Your great-grandfather was losing ships to pirates so he developed his own security service to protect them. He was also running illegal cargoes so he needed to keep both the pirates and the Federation away from his ships. Mostly the security service defended the convoys, but sometimes they attacked installations if the pirates or the Federation got too close. Your great-grandfather died under mysterious circumstances and your grandfather took over the business. There are those who think your grandfather or one of his brothers killed your great grandfather. Your grandfather was the strongest of the brothers and took over the company. There was a lot of squabbling and some of them died mysteriously. Your grandfather had a different mission for his security forces. He saw the force as a way to stifle competition. He developed the glass drones and the cylindrical fighting formations. He is the one who built the force and used it against his enemies real or imagined. He was preparing an attack against New St Louis when a Federation battleship hyper dropped into the middle of his formation. He was killed in the battle. When your father took over the company, much of the support infrastructure for the force had been destroyed in that battle. He rebuilt it less centralized so that a single attack could not destroy it as the one at New St. Louis had done. He has been building the Force ever since. We stand ready to deliver a decisive blow if they go to war.”
“And I am an heir to all this?”
“One of several. You will have to fight for your rights, though. No one will hand them to you. You will have to take them.”
THIRD GENERATION - CHAPTER TWO
MAJOR EMERSON WINTHROP III, Commandant of the Swordsman garrison on the planet Stonebridge, watched the Swordsman Space Force Third Combat Group depart. The visit was routine. The obligatory inspections were perfunctory. The commanders trusted him, and he should have felt good about that, but he did not. For his entire military career he had been stuck in command of this outpost. When he had first arrived as a recent Space Force Academy graduate it was the very edge of current exploration. Now it was merely another planet in the midst of Swordsman held space. It was a beautiful planet, very much like Earth. His wife and children loved living here. He had no real reason to complain about his duty. He had been promoted and decorated at regular intervals. He had done so well maintaining the safety and security of the planet that the Swordsman military command had established their advanced weapons development facility at his garrison. He understood and appreciated the honor that entailed.
Emerson’s aggressive pursuit of pirates, drug runners and slave traders had driven them completely out of the sector. He had interrogated enough Federation spies to know that even they were wary of his skills defending the planets in his area of responsibility. He had every right to be proud of his military record. As he stood at the system defense net’s control center watching the command displays he knew it, but he did not feel it.
Emerson’s mind drifted back to his teen years. He had pledged to avenge the person who killed his father. Fulfilling that pledge was impossible from where he was stationed. Further complicating his dilemma was the fact that his killer was on the planet Eretz, the planet of the Jews. As tough as his defenses were, theirs were tougher. Somehow, she would need to leave the planet for him to exact his revenge. Frustrated and angry, he paced as the fleet and his chance for revenge slid gradually out of sight.
Not long after then Cadet Rachel Solomon had made the headline news for yet another of her military conquests, Emerson had pledged his revenge against her, but he now knew that she had not killed his father. She had shot down his helicopter during the battle at Homestead, but he survived the crash. Rachel Solomon’s grandmother, Rose, had shot him at point blank range. Still, exacting revenge on a fragile old woman was beneath his honor. Being able to demonstrate the superiority of a male Swordsman over a female Federation commanding officer, however, would be an affirmation of his Samurai Swordsman faith.
He had tangled with her once a long time ago and had misjudged her. At the beginning of his Freshman year at the Academy, before the Swordsman secession, he had met her in the lounge of his dorm. In the scuffle, she had broken his nose and had thrown at him a copy of the file on his father’s criminal record. It was not a pretty sight, but he was steadfast in his drive for revenge.
Emerson smiled with a new thought. The Federation and the Swordsmen were preparing for war. After years of a tense stalemate, both sides were building their forces. Recently, there had been an explosion at the super secret nuclear power systems test facility at Eretz. Rumors of sabotage flew with the speed of courier missiles. Tempers flared all over human inhabited space. Emerson anticipated that the investigation of that explosion would lead back to him, as well it should, since he had originated the plan. The idea had come from one of the engineers, but he had endorsed it as a way to draw the Jews out of hiding and into a battle they could not win.
The “peace” that had lasted for two decades had not been peaceful. “People Against Fusion” had attacked vulnerable nuclear power plants often enough to make defending them a priority for both the Federation and Swordsmen. Sunni and Shiite Muslims continued their centuries old battle. Periodically Christians would weigh in on one side or the other and annihilate whichever group was in the way this time, but the slaughter continued unabated in spite of the Swordsman Church’s concerted efforts to eliminate all the Muslims they came in contact with. Still, the major powers, the Swordsmen and the Federation, had not faced each other since the Swordsman’s peaceful secession from the Federation. Even before that, the Federation Space Force had not faced the Swordsman fleet in open battle. The two major battles that had occurred had both been fought by splinter groups commanded by Greg Solomon, the father of the woman Winthrop was sworn to kill.
Powerful in defense, but opposed to offensive actions, the Jews were not technically part of the Federation. Emerson knew that the Federation would rally to their defense if only because it would give the Federation’s conservatives the excuse to retake the star systems that had been absorbed into the Swordsman held territories. No, he must draw them out to attack him. Attacking the Jews directly would shape the battle in a way that the Swordsmen could not win. Drawing them out to attack Swordsman space would shape it in a way that they could.
The final major power, other mysterious organization who had previously wreaked havoc and destruction, the infamous “Third Force”, had been quiet for the last decade contenting themselves with menacing press releases threatening dire consequences should the Federation and the Swordsmen go to war. Their bluff was about to be called.
Full scale interplanetary war was coming and for his part, Emerson welcomed the opportunity to settle old scores.
THIRD GENERATION - CHAPTER THREE
“GRANDMA” ROSE SLOWLY STOOD from the circle of children sitting on the floor who had listened in rapt attention as she read them a story. Suddenly she closed her eyes in pain, touched her hand to her hea
d and sank back toward the floor. Sixteen year old Moses caught her as she fell and eased her down to the floor. He yelled across the room to his younger brother, “Saul! Go get Dad!”
Saul looked up from the circle of children he had been reading a story. “What? Why?”
Moses commanded, “Go get Dad, now!”
“Call him on your comm,” Saul whined.
“SAUL! GO GET DAD! NOW!”
Saul took off running.
“FIND HIM WHERE EVER HE IS! BRING HIM HERE!” Moses shouted at his back.
By now the children were looking in his direction as he sat cradling the old woman’s head.
“Naomi!” Moses shouted at the older of his two sisters, “Go get Mom.”
Naomi left as quickly as her little legs could carry her.
Moses’ cousin Rebecca, only slightly younger than him, came over and seeing how pale the old woman’s face had become said, “Moses, should I get my Mom and Dad?”
“Yes, please.”
Moses gathered his younger sister, Gabby, his three remaining cousins, Bobby, Hannah and Barney with the other children around him on the floor. He covered the silent body with blankets the children had used for their naps.
One of the children, watching intently as Moses pulled the covers over Rose’s body asked, “Is she sleeping?”
“No, little one, she has died.” Moses said softly.
“She won’t wake up?” Another child asked.
“No.” Tears started on Moses cheeks.
“Is she gone like little Benjy?” Yet another child asked.
“Yes,” Moses choked on the word.
“Will we put her in a rocket and send her off to space like Benjy?”
“No, sweetheart. Benjy was sick for a long time. He said when he grew up he wanted to fly among the stars like his parents did before they died. After he died, we sent him off as he wished.”
Some of the children had started to cry. The adult attendants for the day care center had stood back paralyzed by indecision as Moses had taken control of the situation. At a hundred and twenty years old, Rose was the oldest person any of them had known and the thought that she might die came as a shock.
Moses motioned to them. “Please bring the children in a circle. Please everyone sit down. How do Jews say goodbye to a loved one who has died?”
“We say the Mourners Kaddish,” one of the older boys offered.
“Let us all say the Mourners Kaddish for Rose. She would like it if we prayed for her.”
The adult attendants lead the children in the prayer. Moses stood as he heard the pound of his father’s heavy tread running in the hallway outside the room. The children were saying the last line of the prayer when Moses’ father burst through the doors with Saul right behind. He was wearing his medical scrubs with a surgical mask dangling around his neck. Saul was carrying the stethoscope their father had obviously dropped along the way. Moses stepped toward his father and put his hand out to keep him from plowing through the seated children.
“Let her go, Dad.”
The man was surprised at the force his son applied against his chest. He held an instrument that read vital signs from a subcutaneous transponder placed in Rose’s back. “She’s dying. I need…”
“Dad, she’s dead. You’re a great doctor. You work miracles every day. I’ve seen you do it. This one you have to let go. She’s a hundred and twenty years old. The scars haven’t healed from the last time you patched her back together.”
The man sputtered for a moment.
“Dad, it’s a cerebral hemorrhage, one centimeter below the surface of the brain. Right here.” He pointed to his head. “Even if you had been here when it happened, you couldn’t fix it. The tissue won’t hold the repair. Let her go. It’s better this way. She died among the children she loved.”
“What about the children?”
“These children have seen a whole lot of death and dying. Since that reactor blew last year, how many of their friends and family have died? How many have absorbed so much radiation that they will die before they reach their teens? Let them cry this out. They need to mourn.”
Many of the children were openly crying as they sat on the floor. The adults moved from child to child comforting them.
The man surveyed the faces of the children who had turned their attention to him. “Dad,” Moses continued, “think about what normally happens when someone dies around here. Paramedics rush in and make a whole lot of noise. They order people around and rush the person away. It scares the children. This time should be different. We would be dishonoring her memory if we let her death be frightening to the children.”
“You want them to know it’s all right for them to cry when someone dies?”
“Yes.”
“How did you know it was a cerebral hemorrhage?”
“Dad, I just kinda knew. She stood quickly, put her hand to her head, closed her eyes and fell. I just kinda knew. I don’t know how I knew. I just did. You can do an autopsy, but I don’t think either Mom or Aunt Wendy will let you. I recommend you accept my diagnosis and leave it at that.”
“I don’t know.”
“Dad, I knew Benjy had died before Rose did and she was holding him. Wasn’t I right about his cause of death?”
“Yes.”
“Sometimes I just know. How do you know what’s wrong with a patient?”
“I have years of training.”
“That’s only part of it. I’ve watched you work. You pay attention to all the signs. You look at a person’s color like whether it’s even or not. You listen to their breathing while they talk to you. You feel their temperature with your fingers before you use a thermometer. You are sensitive. I am too. It’s a gift. It’s knowing what to look for and knowing what it means when you see it. With training I can do it, too. It’s why I hang out with you so much.”
“You really do like working with me? I always thought you were humoring me.”
Moses huffed, “No, Dad, but that brings up another issue. Mom wants me to go to Space Flight Academy and I don’t want to go. I want to go to med school.”
“Your mother is a strong willed woman. That’ll be tough. She won’t be happy.”
“You know, I don’t understand how the two of you get along. You are so different.”
The man smiled. “It’s like riding a tiger. It’s exciting and it’s dangerous.”
“And you live in fear that some day the tiger will turn on you and eat you.”
“That’s part of what makes it fun.”
The boy shook his head in disbelief. He heard his mother’s footfalls in the hallway as she ran toward them. He looked at his father. “Mom’s here.”
At least he wasn’t the only kid around here whose mother really did wear combat boots. He wrapped his fingers around his father’s wrist. The man wrapped his fingers around the boy’s wrist and with their combined strength intercepted and caught Rachel as she plowed through the door.
The boy and the man struggled together against Rachel as she tried to reach her grandmother lying on the floor. “Mom, it’s over. Let her go.”
The man encircled his wife in his arms and quietly said, “Rachel come sit with me. We will say the Kaddish together with the children.”
She struggled against his hold. Her eyes met her husbands’ eyes beseechingly, “Isaac! Do something! Can’t you do something? Please? Please?”
“No, Rachel, Moses is right. Let her go.”
Moses addressed the children. “Can we say the Kaddish again with my parents?”
Led by the adult attendants, the children recited the prayer again.
Moses’ aunt and uncle must have been working together because they arrived at the same time. Rebecca was only a few steps behind. Moses and Isaac restrained Rachel and forced her to sit with the children. Wendy sat beside her sister and gently pried Moses’ hands loose even as she joined in the prayer of mourning. When the prayer was over, still holding Rachel, she asked, “What happene
d?”
“Cerebral hemorrhage. Right here.” Moses pointed at his head.
“Did she suffer?” Wendy asked.
“It was very fast. I don’t think so.”
“That is a blessing.” Wendy turned to her sister, “Rachel are you all right?”
Rachel shook her head and sniffled. Tears flowed down her cheeks. Rebecca handed Rachel a baby wipe. It was the best she could do. Rachel smiled and Wendy pulled Rebecca, her oldest child, to her in a hug.
Moses stood. “Dad, we have to stop the paramedics. Will you certify her death? Saul, give him the stethoscope.”
“I don’t need it.” He looked at his medical reader as he stood. “Her transponder reported the second her heart stopped. I have everything I need for my report.”
They heard the footfalls as the paramedics approached. Moses, Saul, their father and uncle stood to intercept the paramedics as they came through the door. Once the children had had a chance to say their last good byes to Rose and had been taken to another room, the paramedics picked up Rose’s body and carried her to the mortuary.
Once the day care was quiet again, Wendy pulled Rachel close. “Faye Anne and J T think the reactor failure may not have been an accident.”
“Are you sure?”
“Not totally. Faye Anne and J T think they found the smoking gun. We need help, but we think we know where to look. We need to bring the rest of our crew together. This is not a job we can do ourselves and I don’t know who else we can trust.”
“They are scattered across the galaxy. Do we have the time?”
“No, but we don’t have any options.”
Rachel looked intensely into her sister’s eyes. “I hope they’re wrong. I’ll round up the troops. Rose’s funeral will give us cover to bring that many people together without arousing suspicion.”
“If it is what they think it is, I hope they are wrong, but I doubt it.”
Solomon Family Warriors II Page 97
