The Orion Deception

by Tom Bielawski

  "They are too few and too far between to be of much consequence, sir. We can destroy the renegade drifts now, with our current arms, if you will but say the word."

  "Now is not the right time, Vlad. It would be viewed as an unprovoked war. We would only make matters worse."

  "Hmm." Vladimir was not convinced, but he would follow orders. "Nonetheless, you're fleet is prepared."

  "Sir," the Chief of Staff interrupted, this time he appeared in the room as a holographic image. "Orion is in the Palace. He will be here shortly."

  Arnold nodded and the image of his Chief of Staff vanished.

  "How do they defeat our sensors?" asked Fleet Marshal Vladimir. "They are hiding something very powerful from us, I think."

  "I think they are too. I have not been able to find their starship. I know its hiding somewhere in the Belt, but I don't know where."

  "That could prove to be a liability for us, sir. Why don't we cut ties with them now and send them on their way? They cannot be trusted. We can achieve our goals under our own power."

  Prime Minister Arnold knew that the Fleet Marshal spoke truly. He did have the power and the technology to go to war with the Drift States. He could even conquer the other non-Commonwealth states on Earth and throughout the System. But could he do it with his fleet intact? Would he be able to quash uprisings and insurgencies and maintain his grip on those territories? He doubted it. That's where plasma warfare came in. It was such a brutal and sophisticated concept that it would strike fear in the hearts of his adversaries. He would be able to lay waste to entire terrestrial cities and decimate drifts in space.

  He and Vladimir sat silently, awaiting their visitor. In a moment, the door to his office opened and the smartly dressed Orion officer entered. To avoid suspicion he dressed like an Earther, wearing modern business attire. The unusual skin complexion and slightly different eyes and smaller ears did not necessarily betray his origin. Genetic altering was fast becoming a popular and trendy science in the Solar System. It was now quite easy to make radical changes to one's own appearance through the use of genetic drugs, though the ability to make these changes permanent had ever eluded scientists. The science was still primitive, however, because the more advanced research needed to affect a person's DNA, and thus completely change a person's identity, had been outlawed.

  With a nod from the PM, D'mal sat down on a leather covered sofa before the desk of the leader. Neither the PM nor the Fleet Marshal stood to greet the newcomer.

  "Where is my renegade, Heck Thomas?" he asked, forgoing formalities. The lack of decorum was not lost on D'mal.

  "The ex-marshal was last seen on a spaceliner bound for ROS before it was hijacked."

  "He was on that ship?"

  "Indeed, Mr. Prime Minister." D'mal seemed chagrined, a trait that the PM thought the haughty man would never exhibit.

  Vladimir refused to look at D'mal and stared resolutely out the great window, a derisive smile playing about his lips. It was no secret to Arnold that Vladimir detested their alliance and would like nothing better than to shoot the Orion officer dead.

  Another time perhaps, he thought with a sigh. He was looking forward to firing the plasma cannons that were being tested by his Special Operations Command. The Orion officer was good for that, at least.

  "Yet somehow he managed to escape from it before the hijackers found him," said Vladimir with condescension.

  D'mal did not respond to the Fleet Marshal. Instead he directed his response to the Prime Minister. "Heck Thomas is not alone. He is working closely with two other people. One of them is a foreign national and it seems they are getting help from a non-member government.”

  "How is this possible?" demanded the Prime Minister. "Didn't you have an assassin tracking him?"

  "That assassin is dead. Your target managed to inhibit the transmitters we placed in the assassin and hide him long enough to disappear. We found the body of the assassin tied to an anchor on the bottom of a river. Although the giant reptiles that live there devoured much of the body, we were able to recover his last conversations and sights from the implanted chip." Arnold raised an eyebrow, that sounded very appealing.

  "The assassin had not been privy to much of the target's plans, they were disciplined in front of him. But he did hear a reference to getting offworld before he died. It was how we learned of his accomplices, specifically the Israeli operative. That is also when we learned of the hijacked spaceliner and their disappearance from it."

  "Pathetic," growled Vladimir. "Why do we allow such incompetence?"

  "So Israel is working against me," mused Arnold. "They get priority in our upcoming initiative, Vlad."

  "Mr. Prime Minister," began D'mal, his voice dangerous and cold. "My people have allied with your government for mutual benefit. We have each agreed to act in the interests of the other. While yours may be the most advantageous position to our cause, it is not the only one."

  Arnold's eye twitched in anger. He knew the alien was right, of course. The Orion people could indeed ally themselves with another entity or government in the Solar System and achieve their objective. And in doing so, would likely see the destruction of Horatio Arnold and his dreams of power.

  "You are obsessing over a single man who cannot possibly affect the outcome of our goals."

  "Fine," acknowledged the Prime Minister. "But your superiors have ordered you to act in my interests as you have already said. In this case, the death of Marshal Heck Thomas is in both our interests. Alive, he is a menace that can expose the entire alliance. What if the Marshal managed to get your assassin to talk? What then?"

  "Unlikely," said D'mal without emotion. "Earther agents have self-destruct programming that would prevent them from compromising our secrets. The assassin we sent after Heck Thomas was a Soldier of the Crescent Moon."

  Vladimir slowly swiveled his head toward Arnold and leveled his gaze at the PM. "Sir, I thought we were terminating our alliance with those terrorists!"

  "We are, Vlad," said the PM with a smile. "One mission at a time!"

  "In this case," continued D'mal. "The limited intelligence of henchmen employed by the Crescent Moon has proven an asset in their training. They are easily programmed and are not afraid of death."

  "I agree with the alien on that point, sir. They are fools who welcome death. I, however, would prefer to give them death without giving them any training that may be turned against us!"

  "Noted, Vlad," said the PM. "Please continue, Orion."

  "This particular agent accepted his programming and the implanted device with pride. He was an accomplished assassin and made all five of the hits you requested. He was accurate and knew his job. He was terminated before he could divulge your secrets."

  "How can you be sure? Perhaps we should send in one of my own assassins," offered the Fleet Marshal.

  "I believe you already have, Fleet Marshal," said the alien with condescension. "Didn't your assassin fail to kill the target while he was on the spaceliner?"

  Vladimir neither admitted nor denied the accusation and looked back out the window, remaining silent.

  "So you have learned all this from your dead agent? What are you going to do now?" asked the PM.

  "We are going to let him come to us," said D'mal.

  "It is not wise to underestimate Heck Thomas, Orion," grumbled the PM. "Just make sure he dies this time."

  "We need more plasma coils," said the alien, changing the subject.

  "They’re coming," said the PM, waving his hand dismissively. "They can only be fabricated in certain places on Earth, it takes time."

  "Time that holds up our mutual plans."

  "When you are finished, what will you do with all the scientists you have abducted from me?"

  "We are taking them with us!"

  "That wasn't part of the bargain, alien."

  "Hmm. It wasn't expressly stipulated that they had to be returned either."

  "Let the aliens have them, sir," offered Vladimir. Arnold
raised an eyebrow at him. "It would not be wise to have their brilliant minds working against you after your rise to power."

  Arnold changed the subject, appearing to grow bored. "What brought you here today, Orion?"

  D'mal stood and tossed something on the table, then stood and left the PM's office without a word. Arnold picked up the small drive and placed it on the interface panel of his desktop. Instantly a holographic display of the Fleet Long Range Starship he loaned to Orion's Sword appeared before him, rotating this way and that before his eyes. The data streams below the holographic image showed that the starship had been outfitted with plasma cannons as well as plasma shielding that could be sustained for long periods of time, unlike the current Phalanx models employed by the Fleet that could only operate in small bursts.

  Then the image changed and a data stream below the image narrated what was about to happen. A cloud of plasma vented from ports on the ship's hull and appeared to cling tightly to the ship. Then rods protruded from openings in the hull and charged the plasma with energy. The ship began to move forward slowly, then disappeared.

  "Where did it go?" asked Vladimir.

  Then the data stream flashed: FTL engine active.

  "My God! Is that what it purports to be, sir?" Vladimir was awed by the display. The time clock on the data stream advanced forward an hour and the starship returned to sight in a blinding flash. The rods then retracted inside the hull and the plasma cloud was successfully recovered by its attraction to the charged coils placed about this ship’s hull. "Did they really do it?"

  FTL engine functional.

  "I think they did," whispered Arnold in awe. "That starship just made the first successful Faster Than Light journey in our history! Nothing can stop us now! The entire Solar System and beyond is ours for the taking!" said Arnold.

  "Plasma weapons and FTL engines. We will have the Solar System under our thumb within days. Everything. Inner System, Asteroid Belt, even the vermin in the Outer System."

  "What will you do when you have conquered the System?"

  "We are obliged to aid our new allies and help them regain control of their world."

  "Horatio, I will need the intelligence on the Centauran society if we are going to prepare."

  "So soon?"

  "Not soon enough, sir."

  "They have a small populace, numbering a few million I am told. They will be of no consequence considering our new firepower and speed."

  "I am as confident as you, sir. But we must still plan for all contingencies. What if the Centaurans have weaponry superior to these Orion aliens?"

  "Fine, you will have your intelligence. I will set up a meeting for you, pick them clean."

  "Indeed sir."

  "One question, Vladimir."

  "Sir?"

  "Who is your assassin?"

  "My assassin?"

  "Don't be coy, Vladimir. I've known you for too long. Clearly you had no faith in Orion's Sword to eliminate Heck Thomas, so you sent your own assassin. Who is he?"

  "Would it be better for you not to know?"

  "Perhaps," said the PM pensively. "While I appreciate the sentiment, Vladimir, please don't go behind my back again."

  "Yes, sir. Shall I call the assassin in?"

  "No," the PM stood up. "No. Somehow I don't think our alien friends are as concerned with my priorities as I am."

  "Why should they be, sir? When they return to their world, it is you and I who will remain to deal with the fallout if Heck Thomas talks."

  "As it stands, the alien is right. We have too much to gain from their technology to risk losing it over Thomas. The alien showed us that data for a reason. They have a starship, our starship, and a fully functional FTL engine. They could leave us now."

  "What about their experimental drift? We could exploit their research for ourselves."

  "I think if we cross them they will see to it that we don't."

  "So we are to simply trust their word? We just believe that they will follow through on their promises?"

  "No. We need assurances."

  "What did you have in mind?"

  "A special project for your assassin."

  Chapter

  Eight

  ~

  Roosevelt Orbital Station, or ROS as it was commonly referred to, was in permanent orbit around the Moon. It was a city unto itself, with its own municipal government and public services. It was the main platform from which all flights between Earth and the Moon were managed and it was a crucial station in the Commonwealth Fleet for security around Earth.

  Heck knew that getting onto ROS with his escape craft was going to be more difficult than if he had simply docked with the rest of the passengers, but it would not be impossible. Their luck held and whoever was responsible for the boarding of the spaceliner had not gone to any great lengths to follow the escape craft. Heck was confidant in the false trail he created for any would-be pursuers, but it still seemed that there should have been some activity. Did that mean that he was allowed to escape? What was Dooly's role in that? He found it unlikely that Dooly would be kind enough to give Heck a pass, considering the formerly dead man's parting sentiment. Unless he meant to have his revenge on Heck without interference.

  As the small craft neared the Moon, Heck took a lengthy detour above the shadowy recesses the Moon's South Pole. The South Pole was sparsely populated and boasted no resources of value so the chances of detection there were slim. In order to breach the security of the orbiting station, his timing would need to be perfect. Dozens of security cruisers patrolled the station's periphery and at any given time it was monitored by a plethora of sensor arrays. He would need a magnificent distraction in order to accomplish what he needed to do.

  And so Heck Thomas watched the solar flare data streams and solar weather forecasts intently. Any minute a significant solar flare would erupt on the blazing ball of fire and gas at the center of the Solar System and provide Heck with the distraction he needed.

  The Moon's surface was beginning to lighten in the view screen before him, he always enjoyed the zero gravity view of a world above his head. For the moment he was out of range of even the orbital security satellites but that would only last another moment. As soon as the black and gray shuttle glided out of the shadows and into the sun's rays, he would be detected. If there were any Commonwealth Guard Cutters in the area, he would be captured or killed.

  The flight path had been programmed into the small drive he had given Lainne by the nice back-alley folks he met on Earth. The same ones who provided him with his ID cloakers, false identities with biographical data and an array of security sensor-proof weapons. So far Heck felt that his money had been well spent and he had not been disappointed with his purchase. The only glitch in the plan had come from the mysterious reappearance of ex-Deputy Marshal Stephen Doolin.

  Heck scowled as the image of his old friend and partner entered his mind. Then the irony made him laugh. Dooly might have returned from the dead, but the traitor was still a traitor, and now he had to be as highly wanted as Heck Thomas.

  An alarm chimed to Heck's left side, the solar flare activity was about to pick up significantly. He slowed the craft's velocity down with forward steering thrusters, waiting for the eruption that would bring just enough natural disturbance to the communications spectrum to quiet his own scan signature. And then it happened, all of his controls went haywire. He quickly disabled all gauges and monitoring systems and flew the spacecraft completely by sight and instinct. Inexperienced fliers, like the younger types employed by the Commonwealth Guard, would likely panic or be distracted by the disorienting effects of the solar flare. But Heck Thomas was a veteran pilot and had flown combat missions with the Marines in his younger days; this was nothing.

  When Heck had disabled the automation of the craft, he had inadvertently disabled the craft's automatic window shielding. He reached over and flicked a holographic control on a nearby console and the view screen dimmed drastically. The light absorbing resin
filled an empty space between the outer and inner glass panels, filtering the harmful radiation from the sun and helping to absorb inbound scanning signals.

  He glanced over at Lainne and was pleased to see the young woman was still sleeping peacefully, her head lolled to one side. He smirked as he looked back out at the sights before him, knowing the woman was going to wake with a terribly stiff neck. As they left the South Pole of the Moon behind, the terrain of the terraformed world became rapidly greener and more lush. If he hadn't seen evidence that the Moon was once a ball of dead rock and dust floating beside Earth, he would never have believed it. Even now the Moon's temperate zones were blessed with vast lakes that had once been craters. Thanks to artificial gravity plates buried beneath lush pastureland, farmers were now able to manage herds of livestock for beef, swine, and poultry markets on nearby drifts.

  Heck continued to fly the craft, using landmarks that he recognized on the Moon's surface, scanning communications receivers to judge the longevity of the solar flare. It seemed to Heck that he had some time. Long range sensors mounted on various places of the hull allowed Heck to visually check the nearby airspace for dangers. He had indeed seen a few Commonwealth Guard patrols but none of them acted as though they had been able to identify his craft for what it was, meaning the solar flares were doing their job.

  Soon the great dark underbelly of ROS was in view and Heck steered the craft past a Guard fighter, aiming toward his destination. The fighter continued on past Heck and his craft, as though he the pilot were unaware of his existence. In another three minutes, Heck and Lainne would be safely inside ROS with none the wiser for it.

  And then a warning chime blared to his right. The solar flare was weakening prematurely and communications systems were gradually coming back online. It would be a sporadic process, and any nearby Guard craft might have moments of total functionality of their scanning systems between periods of weakening interference.

  He could be discovered at any time.

  There was nothing he could do now but watch. If the Guard fighter's scanners came to life, so would his. The entry tube he was going to infiltrate was right before him now. It was open but still about a minute away and he had to pass thousands of sensors just to reach it.