New Frontiers- The Complete Series

by Jasper T. Scott

  Alexander’s brow furrowed.

  “Listen, I understand you’re angry that your wife was placed in danger, but she knew what she was getting herself into, and the important thing is that she might still be alive. If you agree to help us, I will allocate more resources to finding the colonists. You can even join the search. In fact, I bet there’s some type of angle there that will play well with the rest of our PR campaign.”

  “That’s blackmail,” Alexander growled.

  “No, it’s an incentive. You scratch my back, I scratch yours. What do you say?”

  Alexander gritted his teeth. What could he say? Caty might have moved on, but that didn’t mean he’d magically stopped caring for her. The thought of her falling into enemy hands…

  “With your wife missing in Confederate territory, and possibly captured already, it could help her immeasurably if you can improve our image and defuse the enemy’s negative feelings toward us.”

  “I want to be in charge of the search.”

  “Done.”

  “And I want an entire fleet at my disposal.”

  The president hesitated briefly, but then he nodded. “I suppose an admiral should have a fleet. I assume you mean a wet fleet.”

  “Yes, and I’m only going to renew my commission for another six months, or until my wife is found, if six months isn’t enough time.”

  “Agreed. You drive a hard bargain, Captain de Leon,” the president said, standing up and extending his hand for shaking.

  Alexander pushed off the couch and accepted the handshake. He intentionally crushed the president’s hand in his, and Baker gave him a strained smile, pretending not to notice.

  Commander Carter joined them in standing. “I guess we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other, Capt—I mean Admiral de Leon. As your PR manager we’re going to have to work very closely to defuse the on-going media crisis.”

  Alexander turned from shaking the president’s hand to regard Carter with a thin smile. “I can’t wait.”

  CHAPTER 48

  Fleet Admiral John Wilson sat on a springy cot, glaring at the bare metal walls of his cell. Politics had ruined his career—no, his entire life. President Baker was a hypocrite. If he thinks he’s going to get away with burning me in a witch hunt, he has another thing coming. Wilson knew too much, and he was nothing if not shrewd. He’d known something like this might be coming, and he’d taken the necessary precautions.

  Wilson heard a thunk issue from the door, the sound of locking bolts sliding away. He had a visitor. Either that, or he was being moved from one cell to another. The brig on Anchor Station was a temporary holding area. They had to move him someplace more public if they wanted to try him for crimes against humanity.

  What a joke. Since when have crimes against humanity ever applied to the winning side of a war?

  The door swung wide and in walked President Baker himself, followed by two secret service men in black suits. “Hello, sir,” Wilson said, pouring as much derision into that greeting as he could. “Come to release me?”

  The president regarded him with a dubious frown as his bodyguards approached. Wilson watched them carefully, his heart pounding. One of them produced a set of handcuffs and chained him to his cot.

  “Wait for me outside,” the president ordered.

  Without a word both his bodyguards left the cell and shut the door behind them. It closed with an echoing, metallic boom, and then the president turned back to face him, his expression full of disappointment.

  “I’m sorry it’s come to this, John.”

  “Likewise, Ryan, but you’ve really lost your mind if you think you can get away with it.”

  The president cocked his head to one side. “Get away with what?”

  “You and I both know that you’re even guiltier than I am.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, and I would strongly advise you to stop trying to deflect the blame for your actions.”

  Wilson gritted his teeth and jerked his wrists against his chains with the reflexive need to choke the life out of the president. “All right. I’ll play along, you smug bastard. You find some way to release me and have me pardoned from these charges you’ve trumped up, and I won’t vomit your secrets all over the world’s news networks.”

  The president appeared to consider that for a moment, but then he smiled. “You’re an excellent bluffer, John.”

  “It takes one to know one.”

  “Touché. There’s just one problem. You were arrested without warning. You’ve had no access to any networks, or anyone associated with the press, and to top it all off, I’ve had you under surveillance since your arrest. I know exactly what you have up your sleeve—nothing.”

  Wilson deliberately narrowed his eyes. “You think I’m so stupid that I couldn’t see the writing on the wall before I was arrested? I know you. I knew you would try something like this, so I took the necessary precautions. If I don’t do something to stop it, Operation Alice will get blown wide open in exactly five days. That should be enough time for you to arrange for my release.”

  “A dead man’s switch. Clever. Assuming I believe your latest bluff, what makes you think people will believe a word you say? I’ll discredit you and make you look crazy. It’s not going to be an easy sell.”

  Wilson set his jaw. “The truth never is.”

  Baker laughed and smiled, his eyes twinkling in the glare of the cell’s only light fixture—a naked bulb. “I really am sorry, you know,” he said, turning to leave. “I liked you. In another world we might have even been friends.”

  Wilson felt his heart rate kick it up a notch, beating painfully against his sternum. “Wait! Are you going to release me, or not?”

  “Not,” the president said, already knocking on the door. Bolts thunked once more as they slid aside.

  “Even if you don’t believe me, think about the trial! It’s going to be public. You won’t be able to keep me quiet no matter how hard you try. The truth will come out!”

  The president shook his head sadly as the door swung open. “Goodbye, John.”

  Wilson watched, mouth agape, as the president left. “Baker!” he roared, spittle flying from his lips, but the president was gone. His bodyguards remained, however. Wilson’s eyes widened with horror as they entered his cell. Their faces were impassive, but there was a deadly look in their eyes that gave him warning of what was to come.

  Wilson strained against his cuffs and chains, trying frantically to break them. He would sooner break his wrists. The door swung shut, and the bolts thunked back into place.

  “I’ll scream,” he warned as one of the president’s goons approached.

  “Your cell is soundproof,” the man replied. “You can spare your dignity.”

  Wilson glared at him and shook his head. “What you’re doing is wrong. You can’t justify it.”

  “Sure I can. You killed thousands of innocent people—women, children… babies.”

  “Confederate women, children, and babies. You think I’m the only one who’s ever killed civilians in war?”

  “You can’t manipulate your way out of this.”

  Wilson shook his head, incredulous. Then the man began to undress him, pulling off his pants. Incredulity turned to a new brand of horror. “What the fuck are you doing?” Wilson demanded, aiming a kick at the man’s face, but hitting his forearm instead.

  Wilson was now sitting on the cot in his underwear.

  The man said nothing as he fashioned a noose by tying two pant legs together. Wilson understood. These men were professionals. They would make it look like a suicide.

  “Listen to me carefully—” Wilson said. The man, goon number one, didn’t even look up. Goon number two uncuffed him so they could remove his shirt and improvise a rope for the noose. Wilson struggled, kicking and screaming for good measure, but the bodyguards were strong and experienced enough to avoid his blows. “When the news breaks, you two are going to follow me and the fucking president straight to
hell!”

  They slipped the noose over his head, and Wilson struggled for all he was worth, trying to make them strike him in some way that would make foul play a possibility for coroners to investigate, but goon number one held him in an impossibly tight headlock, while they picked him up and stood him on the cot. Wilson could feel himself losing consciousness as he watched goon two tie the end of the shirt rope to the sturdy mounting plate of the light fixture. Darkness seeped in at the edges of his vision. His last conscious thought was pack your bags, assholes. I’m taking you with me.

  CHAPTER 49

  “Is something wrong?” McAdams asked.

  “Can I come in? We need to talk,” Alexander said.

  “Be my guest.” McAdams stepped aside and he walked in. Her room aboard Anchor Station was nothing but a bunk, a chair, and a locker with a holoscreen on the wall opposite her bed. Typical fare for a lieutenant. She was actually lucky not to be sharing her quarters with someone else.

  Alexander sat at the foot of her bed. She shut the door and crossed over to him, all long legs and lithe curves, her blue eyes bright, but full of concern. He patted the bed next to him, and her lips curved wryly. She stopped in front of him with her arms crossed.

  “You don’t mess around, Captain. I think maybe I gave you the wrong impression about me. You’re at least going to have to take me to dinner first.”

  “It’s admiral, not captain.”

  “Admir…” McAdams said. Her eyes lit with understanding and promptly narrowed. “I thought you were getting out of the navy.”

  “I was. The president made me an offer I can’t refuse.”

  “So that’s it, they make you an admiral and bang—suddenly you’re back in it for another ten years? I thought you were sick of the Navy.”

  “I am. It’s not about the promotion. The Confederacy has Caty. Or at least… they might have her.”

  “Your wife?” McAdams shook her head. “I thought she moved on and had a baby.”

  Alexander nodded. “Apparently she also joined the colony fleet. Her shuttle went down in enemy waters and the colonists are all missing. I’m going to lead the fleet looking for them.”

  McAdams looked away. “I don’t believe this! Just my luck! I should have known better.” She turned back to him, her eyes full of hurt and accusation. “What do you think is going to happen when you find her? You think she’s just going to ditch her baby daddy and welcome you back with open arms?”

  “No. I don’t think that.”

  “Then what are you doing?” she asked, incredulous.

  “I still care about her, Viviana. Maybe she doesn’t care about me, and maybe we can’t go back to the way things were, but that’s not the point. The president needs my help, and in exchange he’s willing to allocate an extra fleet to look for the missing colonists.”

  “You’re telling me President Baker is blackmailing you? What could you possibly have to offer him that’s worth an entire fleet?”

  “I wondered the same thing. Turns out I can help repair the damage Wilson did and make the Alliance look like the good guys again.”

  McAdams snorted. “You say that like you don’t believe that we are the good guys anymore.”

  “I’m not sure there are any good guys in this war.”

  “Okay, so you get to go play the hero and rescue your wife. What about us? How long are you signing on for this time?”

  “Six months.”

  “Better than ten years, but that’s still a long time. By then I might have a baby daddy of my own.” McAdams fixed him with a penetrating stare. “Are you willing to risk that? You know they have to find those colonists with or without you. She’s not the only one missing, and you might not be able to help her even by adding more muscle to the search.”

  Alexander shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not, but I have to try. When it’s over, I’ll look you up, and we’ll see where we stand.”

  “Don’t bother.” McAdams looked away again, wiping her eyes on the backs of her hands. She was crying. Alexander watched her with a growing lump in his throat. She sniffled and said. “With all due respect, Admiral, I need to hit the rack, and you’re sitting on it.”

  “Of course.” He stood up from the bed and placed a hand on her arm. She flinched, but didn’t turn to look at him. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry, Viviana. I would have liked to see where we could go with… us.”

  Now she did look at him. He saw the bitter curve of her lips and the tears shining in her eyes, and suddenly he wondered if he was making the right decision.

  “I know,” she said. “Now go find your wife, Admiral.”

  Alexander nodded. “I will.”

  * * *

  Five Days Later - March 11, 2793

  Admiral Alexander de Leon sat on his bed below decks in his quarters aboard the W.A.S. Hancock, the flagship of the Seventh Fleet, watching World Alliance News with the volume turned down to a whisper. This was his lullaby. Ever since reaching the Alliance supercarrier Hancock four days ago, he’d had to eat sleep and drink the news so that he could respond to it and help improve the Alliance’s image.

  Meanwhile, the Hancock with its two entire wings of drones, fighters, and quadcopters were out searching day and night for Caty and the missing colonists off the coast of West Papau, Indonesia. So far the search hadn’t turned up anything, and all they’d manage to accomplish was to engage in land skirmishes with Confederate soldiers who’d taken to hiding in the jungles. Casualties had grown high enough that now they conducted all the searches remotely via land and aerial drones.

  Alexander was relatively insulated from the fighting—an admiral in name more than function. He gave broad directions to guide the search, but his real job was to spend every day consulting with Ambassador Carter and his team of PR managers. After that he would sit down in front of World Alliance News reporters and their Confederate counterparts, responding to Confederate rebels’ demands, propaganda, threats, and all of the other problems associated with winning the war and occupying enemy territory.

  President Baker didn’t have the manpower to fight an ongoing land battle with enemy rebels in fully half of the world, so he had to focus on holding key areas and winning over the Confederate people with the sheer nobleness of their goals and conduct.

  Without popular support, there was no chance to achieve President Baker’s happily-ever-after vision of one world and one people living in peace and harmony forever. It didn’t help that the Alliance had their fleet standing by in orbit to nuke Confederate cities if they tried anything stupid.

  So far no nukes had been fired, but orbital bombardment of enemy oceanic fleets and military bases was ongoing, and the Confederate government was still on the run. Their strategy at this point was guerrilla warfare. So far it was working. Attrition was taking a heavy toll on Alliance forces, and they were only a few weeks into the occupation.

  It really was a disaster of global proportions. The enemy government and their entire military had been just about to surrender when they learned of Admiral Wilson’s betrayal at the Looking Glass. After that, surrender had been taken off the table.

  A public trial for Wilson might have eased some of the bad blood, but then he’d hung himself in his cell before justice could be done. Now getting the Confederacy back to the point of surrender was almost an impossible goal, and Alexander didn’t see an end to the fighting in the near future. Maybe war was some indelible part of human nature and world peace would never be achieved, but President Baker was adamant that that should be his legacy.

  For his part, Alexander’s goals were much less ambitious. The only thing he wanted was to rescue his wife and then leave the navy so that he could get down to the business of living the allied dream that navy recruiters had sold him more than a decade ago. If he was lucky, maybe McAdams would still be available. If not… he was immortal now, so eventually he’d find someone to start a life with.

  Alexander sighed and then covered a yawn with one hand. Suddenly the ne
ws program playing on the holoscreen at the foot of his bed caught his attention. The headline read, Breaking News Admiral Wilson’s Shocking Confession.

  Alexander frowned, wondering what Wilson had done now. The man was dead, and he was still making headlines. Wilson’s face appeared next, with his trademark white hair. Alexander saw his lips moving, but his words were too soft to hear. Alexander was about to gesture at the screen to raise the volume when his comm band trilled with an incoming call.

  Frowning, he lifted the band to his lips to accept the call. It was from Captain Tristan of the Hancock.

  “Admiral!” Tristan breathed, sounding out of breath.

  Excitement stirred butterflies to life in Alexander’s gut, and suddenly he forgot all about whatever the late Admiral Wilson had to say.

  “What is it, Captain?” Alexander asked.

  “The colonists. We’ve found them. We have a platoon of automechs securing their location now. We’re about to send the quadcopters to bring them in.”

  “I’ll be right there,” Alexander said, already flying out of bed. “Tell them to save a seat for me. I want to be there when they’re rescued.”

  “Sir, I strongly advise against—”

  “I wasn’t asking for permission, Captain. I’m going.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  CHAPTER 50

  Alexander reached the flight deck already dressed in a full two hundred pounds of powered combat armor. A dozen quadcopters were on the deck, their rotors spinning with a thunderous thump-thump-thumping. Navy SEALs rushed every which way in matching gray combat armor. Drones hovered up and away like a swarm of locusts.

  Thanks to his powered armor, Alexander felt his steps light and too fast. It was like stepping off a treadmill after running for an hour—the world went by in a blur. Ambassador Carter ran beside him, huffing and puffing to keep up.

  “Admiral, you can’t risk yourself like this. You are far too valuable to the Alliance.”