The Orion Deception

by Tom Bielawski

  "I am here, Mr. Thomas, to make him pay for his crimes. One way, or another."

  "So who are you here to kill?" Heck asked the prisoner in a growl, now leaning close to his ear. The man forced a smirk, even though he was in tremendous pain. Then Heck produced the small card he had removed from the prisoner's pocket earlier.

  "He will not answer you, Mr. Thomas. Soldiers of his branch are mute."

  "Hmm," replied the ex-lawman, holding the small card up in the dim light. He ran a finger along the edges and the letters on the card suddenly lit with a soft glow. "This might be an answer of sorts."

  "If he can't speak, why not just let him go?" asked Lainne.

  "He's still a threat," answered Heck. "And we don't need any dead weight."

  "What does the card say?" asked Gelad.

  "Rigel's Escape - Resort Drift," he said with curiosity, flipping the card over in his hands. "He doesn't strike me as the type to visit a day spa."

  Gelad's expression turned grim. "It is what I feared, then."

  "What's that?" asked Heck. "Isn't Rigel's Escape just some luxury getaway drift?"

  "It is much more than that," he replied somberly. "The Crescent Moon is a very large organization whose grasp reaches far into the Outer System. Rigel's Escape is the new luxury resort drift you have no doubt heard of. It is quite popular with the elite of every space-faring society and it operates beyond the laws of any existing nation. Since it has not petitioned the Commonwealth for membership, and likely never will, it is beyond even the reach of Commonwealth Laws.

  "There is more to tell you, Mr. Thomas, but the prisoner cannot hear it."

  "What do we do with him then?" asked Lainne.

  "We leave him tied up on the highway with a bottle of beer in his lap and a hot dog in his mouth."

  The prisoner bucked and thrashed and did his best to kick at Heck after his inflammatory comment, but the former lawman delivered a blow to the man's back. When he stopped struggling Heck took his belt and secured the man's feet to his hands, hogtied. He smirked at the irony.

  "What was that all about?" asked Lainne, surprised at the silent man's reaction to such a juvenile taunt.

  "He is a Muslim, Ms. Connor. His faith forbids him from touching pork or consuming alcohol."

  "Oh," she said.

  "Mr. Thomas, how did you know this place was here?" asked Gelad as Heck finished securing the prisoner's restraints.

  Heck, satisfied that his prisoner was properly restrained and not going to cause any harm, looked at Gelad and answered him. "When I was a boy, I spent a few summers with my uncle who lived deep in the woods nearby. My uncle wasn't exactly a law abiding citizen and I had to help him in his criminal endeavors, namely moving illegal alcohol shipments during the Second Prohibition. This room was one of our drop points; I was only here once."

  "And you just assumed it would still be here?" asked Lainne, incredulous. She looked around at the dank chamber in disgust. It was damp and humid and very dirty. The walls and floor were concrete and covered in mold and a green slimy growth. The smell of the mold spores was giving her a headache and the vulgar graffiti that decorated the walls made her blush. A large palmetto bug, startled by the sudden activity, buzzed by her ear and landed on her shoulder.

  "It was a calculated risk, Ms. Connor," said the Israeli as he flicked the large cockroach-type bug from her shoulder. Lainne shrieked and backed away, entangling herself in a large spiderweb. "Mr. Thomas had to think of a place that no one pursuing him would think to look, at least not right away, giving us a chance to hide."

  Lainne sighed as Gelad brushed the spider web away from her hair. These were men of action, risk-takers by nature. They operated in a mental state of cold logic and detached calculation; there was no room for emotion or second guessing. For a woman who spent her life working in the safe and ordinary confines of a business environment, the harsh reality of her new existence was becoming difficult to handle. Her grasp on reality was quickly weakening and she wanted to cry. She looked to the ex-lawman, preparing to voice her concerns, but the man's inner confidence shined through his eyes and lifted her spirit.

  "Now what?" she asked, taking a deep breath to steady her nerves. "We are still no closer to finding my brother, William."

  "William Connor?" asked Gelad intently. "Your brother is William Connor? The FTL engineer?"

  "Yes. Why?" she asked cautiously.

  "Yes, Gelad. Why?" asked Heck, his eyes intent.

  Gelad moved away from the others into a corner and sat down, his back against the damp stone wall. He looked at Lainne and said, "Because, I know where your brother is."

  "You know where my brother is?" Lainne's voice suddenly filled with hope.

  "Interesting coincidence, Gelad." Heck Thomas said as he looked at the Israeli agent, waiting for an explanation.

  "It is no coincidence, Mr. Thomas. It is God's will that I came to be here."

  "God's will?" scoffed the ex-lawman. "I've had enough of God's will. And that doesn't answer my question, Gelad."

  "Heck please," pleaded Lainne. "I think we can believe him!"

  "You can believe me, Marshal."

  "Fine," he said, scowling. "Enlighten me."

  "The Orion Project is a secret program within the Commonwealth Government that was formed to break the FTL barrier. No one but the Prime Minister and a few of his cabinet members are aware of the existence of this program, and those who are working on it exclusively. In fact, several key Members of Parliament and cabinet officials who had knowledge of the program have gone missing and are presumed dead. The PM has tightened the circle of knowledge on this group to a very few confidants and he is preparing for something very big."

  "And," she prompted.

  "And, the Orion Project is responsible for your brother's disappearance. It is no coincidence, Ms. Connor, that your brother is one of the brightest FTL engineers in the System and he, too, has gone missing. With that realization, the urgency of this situation has become clear. This prisoner is an assassin for the Orion Project."

  Lainne sat very still, mulling over the implications of what she just heard. As a member of a government watchdog group she had dealt with high level corruption and cronyism, but she had never experienced anything like this. Inside, she had been holding out hope that whatever the problem, they might still find an ally in the Commonwealth Government who would be willing to help her find her brother. But that hope had just been smashed to pieces.

  "We must divest ourselves of this prisoner, quickly. If he is in fact a member of Orion's Sword, as these assassins call themselves, then he could very likely have a transmitter in his body with a beacon that is broadcasting even now. He could even have an explosive charge implanted in his body that could kill us all."

  Lainne, horrified, looked at the prisoner in disbelief. But his eyes were hard and cold and Lainne knew that the Israeli agent was telling the truth.

  "What do we do with him?" she asked fearfully.

  "The alligators seemed hungry enough," offered Heck with a smile. Lainne turned her head away at the comment, remembering the pure violence the giant reptiles displayed when they attacked the corpse she dumped in the river earlier. She was not comfortable with the idea of murder, justified or otherwise.

  "No. I cannot condone murder," said Gelad with a cold glare. Lainne was relieved that the Israeli had voiced her own reservations. "No matter how appealing."

  The three were silent, listening to the voices of the distant police officers scouring the crime scene amidst the droning of air-cruisers and UAVs.

  "I have a better idea," said Gelad after a moment. "Leave him here."

  Heck raised an eyebrow at the bizarre suggestion, but gave it some thought.

  "Just kill me and get it over with," came a growl from the prisoner. These were the first words the assassin had said to anyone, and to the surprise of Heck and Gelad, they were spoken with a hard-edged Austrian accent. "I would die a horrible death should my superiors learn I all
owed myself to be captured."

  "Uh huh," said Heck, suspicious that the disciplined assassin had chosen this moment to speak. "I thought your type welcomed death. Isn't martyrdom an honor?"

  "Maybe for some. The Crescent Moon has lost its way, I am dishonored by my connection to them. My death will only bring me to the same Hell that you unbelievers will no doubt see very soon."

  "Well, aren't you an enigma? Austrian? German?"

  "What does my background matter under the circumstances?" It didn't and Heck knew that. His lawman instincts told him to collect whatever data he could, that the intelligence on the recruiting habits of the Soldiers of the Crescent Moon would be invaluable. But Heck wasn't a lawman anymore. And he didn't give a damn about the Commonwealth anymore either.

  "You're right. So let's get on with this."

  "You can't be thinking about doing this!" exclaimed Lainne. "Heck? Are you?"

  "We are in a desperate situation, Ms. Connor," added Gelad.

  "But that's murder!"

  "Give me a gun, if it will ease your conscience," offered the assassin. "It would be more honorable than being captured."

  "Then you get what you want. But what do I get? It'd be far easier, and less messy for us, to leave you here for your friends to find you."

  "Do what you will, Marshal," said the prisoner as he lay on his side on the muddy floor. "I am a dead man no matter what you choose to do."

  "Tell you what, Soldier. Tell me what I need to know and I'll leave you in here with one hand chained to the wall and a loaded gun in the other."

  The prisoner laughed as though the ex-lawman had just told him a very funny joke. "Fine, Marshal," he said as he caught his breath. "If you are that weak of a man that you cannot do it yourself."

  "Should I let the Israeli kill you?" asked Heck, with a snarl on his face. The prisoner glanced at Gelad and quieted. "I'm sure he wouldn't mind that job."

  "No, Marshal," said the prisoner soberly. "Yours is the better plan. But I will answer no questions from him."

  "Fine. Who are you here to kill?"

  "You."

  "Me? Why?"

  "A cigarette for a dying man?" asked the assassin with a glance at Lainne. The woman was unnerved at how this killer could know that she smoked.

  "I'm afraid mine are soaked. They're no good now."

  The prisoner nodded to the pile of boxes behind her. When Lainne saw that there was a sealed container behind her with the Sunshine Cigarettes logo on it, she blushed with embarrassment.

  Heck smirked at her but nodded his approval of the prisoner's request.

  How is it these men can do this to me?

  "Because you are the only one that my order fears," said the man as Lainne put a lit cigarette to his lips. The man inhaled deeply and blew out a cloud of smoke through his teeth. "You have control of the only Centaurus Device left in existence. When the U999 mines were destroyed along with Alamo Drift by the Commonwealth, the elimination of that technology was all but assured."

  "So, you thought you'd kill me and take the device. Only I don't have it anymore."

  "That does not matter, Marshal. You would have hidden it where it could not be found, or you would have destroyed it..."

  "So you get rid of me and the Centaurus technology is gone forever. To what end? What is so much better that your people would pass on that awesome potential?" asked Heck, driving the conversation away from the Centaurus Device.

  "My superiors have access to something greater. Something faster, safer, and more reliable."

  "They have another way to use wormholes?"

  "Not wormholes, Marshal. Alien technology. Faster than light engines that work beyond what our own engineers are capable of! Even the brilliant Dr. Connor could not conceive their potential."

  That revelation stunned the room. For a moment, Heck wanted to laugh at the absurdity. Mankind had been working and living in space for almost two centuries and colonized a number of planets and moons, and yet no trace of sentient alien life had ever been discovered.

  "Why should I believe that absurd statement?"

  "I realize how far-fetched that sounds, Marshal, but it is true." Lainne's eyes were glued to those of the dark man, while Gelad's face was a mask of stone. Heck somehow knew that the Israeli was already aware of this.

  "Ok. Let's say your aliens are real. What's the catch? Why are they giving you their technology?"

  "I have learned a great deal about these aliens and I believe them to be demons, agents of Satan. I stand apart from the Crescent Moon on this point. It goes against all that Allah teaches to believe these beings are kind and gentle benefactors."

  "Go on."

  "I know all about you, Marshal." Heck nodded but said nothing. "I know what happened to you. I know about your woman's disappearance and I know who attacked you as you were preparing to enter the wormhole. You may thank Orion's Sword for that, Marshal."

  "Orion's Sword," he repeated. "Aren't you one of them?"

  "I work for them, but I could never be one of them. They have powerful weapons and spacecraft. It is remarkable you escaped from them."

  "Are they aliens?"

  "They would have us believe their lies that they are our beneficent saviors. But I know better. And now that we have what they want, they have become more bold. They claim to come from the Orion constellation. And if they do, then that is where Hell may be found."

  "What's so bad about them? Aren't they giving you FTL technology?" asked Lainne.

  "Nothing is free," answered the man.

  "That's what I'm afraid of," said Heck. "What is their price?"

  "The m-" began the assassin. But all that escaped his lips were groans of pain. The man was suddenly wracked with spasms and began jerking about as though he were having a seizure.

  "What's happening?" demanded Lainne in a panic. "Help him!"

  But there was no help for him. Foam accumulated on his lips and blood tricked from his ears and nose as he grunted and thrashed. Lainne looked away and covered her mouth as the other two men watched the assassin die.

  "Well, at least we don't have to kill him," said Heck. Gelad nodded. "We should be going now."

  "What was that all about? What happened to him?"

  "There must be a device somewhere in his body that triggered a seizure, killing him."

  "How did they know he was talking? Can they hear us somehow?"

  "No. They could not hear us. It is possible that the device that killed him recorded this conversation, but they could not collect that without physically removing the device. When we entered this bunker, whatever tracking device was inside him may have gone offline and was programed to terminate him in a predefined period of time."

  "But wouldn't he know that?"

  "Perhaps. Perhaps not. In any case, we must assume that others will know of our general location very soon. We should be on our way as soon as we can, unless of course we would like to meet more of these assassins working for Orion's Sword."

  Lainne was beginning to feel overwhelmed with all the death and violence. It was really remarkable to her how these men could witness the death of a human being and be so unmoved. Even though that man had tried to kill them, Lainne still pitied him and the corner he had chosen to back himself into.

  The three waited in the dank chamber with the corpse of the deceased assassin for nearly an hour, all the while checking for signs that the coast was clear for them to leave. Lainne was on pins and needles, hoping and praying that they could leave the rat-hole they were in before any other assassins showed up. For the moment, it seemed that the only presence beyond their hideout was that of the local police responders and the Commonwealth Guard Police, which was bad enough.

  No one talked during that time, each alone with his thoughts and plans for the coming hours. It seemed to Lainne that their lives must be measured in hours now, instead of years. It was very hard for her to think in terms of time beyond the present. She thought it must somehow be a survival instinct,
a way to ensure that one's complete awareness was focused on enduring the ordeal and detecting and avoiding danger. Even after the sounds of the police activity had died down and the cruisers had apparently left, the three waited. It seemed that she was aware of every croaking bull frog, every splash of a mullet jumping in the river, and every cricket rubbing its legs together in song.

  Finally, the interminable wait ended and Heck decided it was time for him to conduct a reconnaissance of the area. Very quietly, and very slowly, he opened the door to the hidden chamber far enough for him to slip out. Gelad closed the door behind him, leaving Heck in the darkness on the ledge. He stood very still for nearly five minutes, hoping that if anyone had noticed the movement of the door they would assume that was just a shadow in the greater darkness of the tunnel and move on.

  When he was satisfied that he had avoided the attention of any potential sentries and no alarm had been sounded that he could hear, Heck slipped silently into the murky water. Heck was no stranger to Florida and well knew the threat of alligators lurking in the darkness. But he also knew that alligators would not likely attack something they thought to be a threat to themselves, and there were very few things in that category. So, Heck swam with a knife he had taken from the assassin in each hand. If an alligator grabbed him, he hoped he would be able to react quickly enough to stab it in the eye or snout or its soft underbelly in hopes of convincing it that he was far too dangerous to tangle with. And Heck knew that if he could pull that off he would be lucky indeed.

  Heck swam quietly through the dark water then climbed safely out onto the concrete platform below the bridge on the other side. Again, there had been no alarm and no indication he had been spotted. Very slowly he moved to the upriver side of the platform, the south side where the Swampwater Inn was located. Then, he peeked his head just far enough around the corner to look down the river's bank. From his vantage point, there was enough of a bend in the river that he could actually see the parking lot beside the Swampwater Inn. Luckily, much of the police presence had disappeared but there were still a few officers present and a pair of police cruisers, engines idling, were stationary in the parking lot.