The Orion Deception

by Tom Bielawski

  The other passengers who were slated to board this shuttle were filtering in and Heck saw that there was still perhaps twenty minutes before scheduled departure. He opened up his access to the news feeds and a knot formed in his stomach. News reports told of the tragic loss of the Liberty Islands Drift, a community of several drifts under one government, had been utterly destroyed.

  Are they on to us? asked Lainne via the seat-to-seat messaging system. Each iteration of coded message took the reader a moment to decipher before its meaning became clear, so the writer had to choose his or her words carefully and make the messages brief.

  No, answered Gelad. It was our fake VIP status that generated attention.

  Good. Heck, have you seen the news reports?

  Reading now. Civil war in the Commonwealth!

  The death toll is staggering, added Lainne.

  Soon the captain of the shuttle craft announce that departure was imminent and the entertainment systems were shut down, leaving the three to wonder how this war might affect their plans. Would Rigel be drawn into the war? While it seemed that the drift was secretly in league with the Commonwealth, it seemed unlikely it would openly support the mega-nation whose membership it steadfastly declined. It seemed equally unlikely that it would take the side of the Drift States and risk obliteration.

  Flight attendants took a count of the passengers and seated themselves at their stations. After the docking tube was retracted, the anchors and cleats used to secure the shuttle to the spacedock were released. The shuttle remained adrift until a pair of small unmanned drones gently nudged the shuttle free of the spacedock. Then the shuttle's steering thrusters activated and the shuttle began its slow descent to the massive and mysterious drift below. All of the passengers seemed excited.

  All of them but three.

  The shuttle flight to Rigel was uneventful and pleasant. The touristy vacation atmosphere was making Heck feel as though he were truly getting away from the problems of the universe, and he almost let slip from his mind the terrible news about the war and devastation that had begun in the Inner System. He had to force himself to guard against complacency.

  Heck and the others debarked the shuttle and arrived in the Rigel's Escape terminal for arriving flights. This terminal was very much like the aerospace port from which they began their journey with thousands of people milling about, eating or shopping or drinking. There were a number of tourist information stations about the terminal, each offering a wealth of information about Rigel's distinct regions. What caught Heck's attention was the station for the Ski Resort District where a pair of beautiful women regaled a throng of young men with the thrills that awaited them on the slopes. Everyone seemed happy. Security trams lazily patrolled the large corridors while service robots hovered about giving directions to travelers or offering up travel advice.

  Heck returned his attention to following the other passengers from his own flight as they made their way beyond the shopping area and toward baggage pickup. They came to an anti-grav platform and stepped on, descending to street level below. As they drifted gently down Heck surveyed the city before him through the viewing glass. It was very much like an Earth city. It had huge skyscrapers and wide boulevards and people moved about everywhere, some in ground cars and others in airborne vehicles; the snowcapped mountains in the distance, framed by an azure sky, seemed genuine and breathtaking.

  As the platform settled, the crowd of tourists stepped off and went in several different directions. Some continued to baggage claim or to underground tram system, others to a line of waiting taxis hovering at the curb beyond the hundreds of glass doors leading outside.

  "Which way, Gelad?" asked Heck, taking everything in. Lainne seemed very tense and on edge to the ex-lawman, and did not seem at all impressed by the sights and sounds of the drift. The likely proximity of her brother and the unknown element of how to find him, seemed to be weighing heavily on her mind. He took her hand in his own and gave her a reassuring smile. She smiled back and a little bit of warmth returned to her eyes.

  Then he looked away, wondering again how he had become so involved with this woman. He forced himself to look for threats in every person and every place, as much to keep his mind sharp and free of emotional distraction as to assess danger. There were security sensors everywhere, that much he knew. Dozens of robots mingling with the crowds seemed to be an entertaining distraction to many travelers, but Heck suspected they were much more dangerous than they appeared.

  "We need to go to the Governor's Resort in the Technology District."

  Heck nodded and led the others outside where there was a line of waiting yellow taxis. Heck noticed that these taxis were modeled after the yellow taxis found in many Earth cities and were the size of a small ground traveling van. As the passengers ahead of them were whisked away by their taxi drivers, Heck and the others moved up to the next waiting cab. A large door opened on the side and a small step folded out from the taxi to the ground. As the door closed behind them Heck noticed that their driver was a robot, something he was not at all happy about.

  "The Governor's Resort, please," said Gelad, nonchalant.

  "English!" the robot said with enthusiasm. It was a simple chrome-faced duplicate of all the other robots they had seen thus far. "Governor's Resort. Right away, sir. May I interest you in a guided tour?"

  "No," said Heck as the taxi lifted gently away from the terminal.

  "Very well. Perhaps you are hungry from your journey. May I take you to a restaurant? I can carry your luggage to the resort while you eat and return for you."

  "No, thank you," said Gelad. The taxi increased speed and in seconds was moving rapidly to the skyline where a number of highways were marked by floating beacons. The taxi slipped effortlessly into a stream of traffic and zoomed along far above the city streets.

  "Would the lady be interested in a bit of shopping?"

  "We are tired from a long journey and would like to get to our rooms right away," answered Heck.

  "I understand completely, sir. What brings you to our wonderful drift? Business or pleasure?"

  "We are here for the Ballistics Engineering convention," said Gelad. "It starts tomorrow."

  "I am sorry, sir. I am not aware of such a conventiton. Perhaps I could check with the hospitality registry for you?"

  "Please do," said Heck. He was trying not to get annoyed with the robot's incessant conversation. He needed time to think. The whole thing was just very odd, surreal almost. Nowhere else in the Solar System could anything like this be found. Nowhere. And yet, on the surface, everything seemed perfectly normal. Too perfect. It was always Heck's experience that when things were going perfectly, something bad was soon to happen. He looked over at Lainne and silently prayed that something bad would not happen to her.

  Praying? he asked himself. When did I start doing that again?

  He wondered as he scanned the sights if it was simple habit that caused him to reach out to God, or perhaps the chaos of the unknown that was plaguing him of late. He grunted noisily at himself in anger.

  Heck continued to examine the layout of the drift from above, memorizing its shape and features and where each district was located. As they neared the resort, it dawned on Heck that the robot driver had not yet given them an answer about its inquiry. Heck looked at Gelad and read on his face that he noticed the lack of response from the robot and its subsequent silence. He wondered if the robot were silently communicating with security forces.

  The trip took nearly twenty minutes to reach the Technology District. It was impressive. This district reminded Heck strongly of places like Tokyo and Times Square in New York City. The buildings in Technology District were mostly tall skyscrapers, some over a hundred stories in height. Some buildings had sides that were lit with bright red or blue or green lights and massive holo signs blinked advertisements boasting the latest technology devices and fashion trends. A booming nightlife industry had developed on the getaway drift and blinking sings called the
visitors to this club or that.

  The taxi gently decelerated and drifted down to about mid-level of the one hundred story resort tower and entered a large opening in its side. As the taxi drifted into the opening and settled to the ground, Heck could see that this was a docking station for taxis and delivery vehicles of all varieties.

  "Thank you for traveling with me today, lady and gentlemen. Please enjoy your stay on our drift!" the robot said enthusiastically.

  Heck shook his head as they stepped out of the taxi and into the comfortable air, this was such an odd experience. A robot porter enthusiastically picked up their luggage. "I'll just take these for you and bring them to your suite."

  "We don't know where it is yet," said Lainne.

  "Not to worry, ma'am," said the robot cheerfully. "I have already scanned you and verified your identities. Your suite has already been assigned, you simply have to check in with our concierge to get your keys."

  The robot sped off and disappeared through a door that slid closed behind him. Heck blew out a sigh. He never liked letting his baggage out of his sight and did not trust bellhops at all, be they human or robot. But he reminded himself that they were playing a part and kept his displeasure from his face.

  They walked into a grand lobby and left the loading area behind. The lobby had an atrium that soared to dizzying heights overhead and old-fashioned glass elevator tubes climbed the periphery of the atrium. This was one of the most luxurious resorts he had ever been in. Everything seemed to be touched with gold or silver.

  Several human beings stood behind a grand wooden counter, highly polished and inlaid with golden designs and filigree. A long rectangular vid screen above the counter displayed helpful information like local attractions, shuttle times and dining room hours. A man in a tuxedo behind the counter waved Heck up to the counter and greeted him in three different languages.

  "Good afternoon," Heck replied, happy that English was one of the languages the man used.

  "Welcome to our drift!" said the man with a broad smile. Again Heck was reminded how happy everyone appeared and how perfect everything seemed here. "I hope your journey was pleasant and we thank you for choosing Rigel's Escape."

  Heck nodded and gazed at his reflection in the highly polished wooden counter. The concierge passed three key cards across the countertop to Heck. The concierge was telling them how to find their luxury suite and about all the amenities they would enjoy during their stay but Heck was not listening anymore, something in the man's expression caught his attention.

  A hand on his shoulder, pulled him away, steering him toward the elevator. And as Heck and the others stepped onto the elevator to take them to the seventy-fifth floor Heck realized what he saw in the concierge's eyes.

  Fear.

  Horatio Arnold stood in the High Office, where the Prime Minister conducted all of his official duties. He was alone in the office now, aside from a host of security sensors and state-of-the-art defense weapons expertly tuned to the preservation of the Prime Minister's life in the event of an attack. He knew that very soon, within the hour he was certain, he would be called to Parliament to witness a call for No Confidence in his own leadership.

  The Parliament would assert that the PM had waged war on the rebel drifts without provocation, without the consent of the Parliament. It was true, though he would not admit it. The PM was going to assert that rebels brought this horrible act upon themselves, that they were planning to wage war upon the Commonwealth and unleash weapons of mass destruction upon the poor and defenseless Terran States. Still, such a response would anger his opposition. And though the number of those who were against him had shrunk mysteriously, that number was still enough to hinder his operations.

  It wasn't that such a call was bothersome to the PM, rather it was precisely what he wanted. Until recently Arnold worried that such a procedure would come at the wrong time. But now that certain rebellious drifts had been attacked and destroyed the call for No Confidence was welcome. More to the point, the fact that he knew it was coming was welcome. It gave him the opportunity to exploit a little known rule of procedure, one that would propel him to greatness!

  The Parliament was a disgrace to its distinguished history. It was constantly embroiled in turmoil and corruption and was now but a shadow of its former glory. It did not matter to Arnold that much of that corruption came at his own behest. In fact, many MPs from the Terran States who supported him openly were convicted criminals whose rights to vote as individual citizens had been revoked over criminal convictions. While such criminal convictions prohibited a person from voting in an election, it did not preclude them from getting elected to serve in the hallowed Halls of Parliament.

  Serve, he quietly scoffed.

  But that wasn't the worst. Assassinations had taken place in the Halls of Parliament, MPs had been arrested for socializing with prostitutes in their official chambers, and bribery had become the tool of choice to get things done in the capital. It was disgusting. Nothing worked right anymore. The bureaucrats were getting wealthy at the expense of the taxpayers and the government was fracturing.

  And Arnold couldn't be happier, partly because he had benefited personally from much of that corruption.

  While the traditional garb for the Prime Minister visiting the Halls was as fine a business suit as money could buy, Arnold would not be following tradition. Instead, Arnold wore something very sacred and only rarely ever awarded to a living Prime Minister, the Coat of the Commandant of the Fleet. He gazed at his appearance in the mirror and was very pleased at the sense of command he felt he projected in the unique coat. Arnold had always kept his hair closely cut in the style of his military generals and admirals and remained fit for his age. He was clean shaven and meticulous about his appearance, as were his generals. The title of Commandant was an honorary one given to a Prime Minister whose personal handling of a military matter brought great credit and distinction to the Fleet Forces of the Commonwealth. In Arnold's case, he was awarded these tokens of honor after an uprising on Earth some years ago nearly caused the withdrawal of several member states. Arnold's decisiveness was credited with saving the Commonwealth.

  He smiled at the irony.

  The Coat of the Commandant was a green high-collared jacket with a sash of gold that encircled his waist. A row of golden buttons with the emblem of the Commonwealth adorned the front of the jacket and similar buttons decorated the cuffs. Scarlet piping trimmed the sleeves while epaulettes of gold adorned his shoulders and medals of service covered his chest. A ceremonial saber with a handle of gold and silver was strapped to his left side, truly a sword that was befitting the Commandant of the Fleet. And a nickel plated Springfield Armory .45 caliber pistol with pearl handles and golden filigree was holstered on his right.

  Along with the Coat, Arnold had been given something called the Staff of the Commandant. It was a beautifully made wooden staff, about the length of a cane, with a ball of pure Lunar crystal atop. The shaft was made from polished cherry wood with the crests and emblems of the various Armed Forces emblazoned in silver and gold upon it. It truly gave the man an air of power and authority.

  What Arnold was preparing to do had never been done before. No Prime Minister had ever exercised the powers that were inherent with these devices of office. Horatio Arnold would be the first. Arnold knew that as Prime Minister he would be afforded the time and opportunity to speak before any Member of Parliament, even if they would be bursting at the seams and ready to throw him out of office. But that would be all the time he needed.

  Satisfied that his appearance was impeccable, and that it would create the necessary pause amidst the chaos of Parliament, Arnold turned away from the mirror. While he would truly find pleasure in the fact that some of the MPs would be intimidated by his sight, such was not his intent. A distraction was all he needed, one that was just long enough to cause a moment's hesitation in any MP who might consider bypassing protocols and calling the Parliamentary Guard Force to arrest him. For
, once the Prime Minister had control of the floor, he must be allowed to speak.

  Arnold stalked out into the hallway and passed the Prime Minister's Guard agents who were stationed at his door. They fell silently into step behind and trailed the man through the Tower and down to the Chambers of Parliament. More PMG agents appeared in front of the Prime Minister and cleared the way for him. Whispers of awe and mutterings of disapproval met Arnold's ears, but he did not care.

  Everyone knew Horatio Arnold was going to the Halls of Parliament. All the security stations had been opened in advance of his arrival and the way had been cleared of all non-essential personnel. When the Prime Minister and his entourage had arrived at the great oak doors, they were open and the scene inside the Hall was what he had hoped for. A heavily-armed detachment of the Parliamentary Guard Force was in place and flanking the door, an unusual occurrence to be sure. They were armed to the teeth, as were the Prime Minister's own guard, and looked as though they were but a single word from opening fire on the PM and his own guards.

  The Parliamentary Guard Force did not move to interfere however, which told Arnold that they were there for reasons to be announced in the Hall and probably were not aware of themselves. In all likelihood the MPs who opposed him made this move to be ready for a quick arrest of the Prime Minister. And though procedure dictated that the PM must be formally brought up on charges before he could be arrested, he did not believe the corrupt MPs would follow procedure.

  Arnold sneered at the temerity of the MPs. He knew them well, and he knew well who was behind the move to charge and arrest him. It didn't matter now, however. And Arnold knew that once he made his formal declaration, he would have his revenge on those who opposed him. Those who supported him would be rewarded with appointed positions in his new government.