Kingdom's Swords

by David Sherman

  When the men appeared to be finished with their prayers, Conrad approached them timidly.

  "What do you do on this ship?" one of them asked after Conrad's clumsy attempt at introductions.

  "I'm a Beam drive engineer," he answered proudly. The men looked at each other and then smiled. "Do you say your prayers often?" he asked. Conrad was embarrassed by the question even as it left his lips; he should not intrude on strangers.

  One of them looked up at him intently and then replied, "Engineer Milch, all men seek to rejoin the spirit of God, the Creator. While in these bodies, we can do that only through prayer and the reading of scripture. I believe, brothers," he addressed the other men, "that God has sent this man to us."

  Conrad felt a sudden rush of recognition! Yes! He understood that! "Well..." he began in confusion, not daring to tell such obviously holy men what he was thinking.

  "Brother Milch," another of the miners said, smiling fiercely through his thick black beard, "won't you join us?" The miners shifted around the table to make an open space for Conrad. Gingerly, he sat down. Yes, he thought in exultation, I will be one with God! These men know the Way! He smiled at them and they smiled back.

  Lew Conorado lay in his stateroom, preparing for the jump out of Beamspace. In only a little while the long voyage would be over and he'd be facing the rigors of his court-martial. For the bulk of the voyage he'd been able to put his problems behind him, distracted for the most part by the relationship that had developed between Jennifer Lenfen and himself. But now his mind whirled. He knew he had done the right thing on Avionia Station, but Dr. Hoxey must have built a strong case against him. Otherwise the government would never have gone to the expense of bringing him all the way back from the far reaches of Human Space to face trial.

  Under naval regulations, Conorado could ask for anyone he wanted to defend him—another Marine officer, a civilian lawyer, anyone. But who would he pick? He knew no one back on Earth well enough to ask for such an important service. He would probably just let the Corps pick someone. His basic defense would be that he did the right thing as a Marine officer and as a moral human being to free the aliens Hoxey had imprisoned in her lab. He was certain he could build a strong case on that argument alone.

  And on top of all that, he and Palmita had to face Captain Tuit after the jump. They were in for an expert ass-chewing. Conorado smiled. If only the judge would turn out to be like the old navy man who in a short while would take a chunk out of his behind.

  And then there was Jennifer. The worst thing about the relationship that had developed between them was that she reminded him so much of Marta when his wife was her age. The similarity was so strong that there were brief, poignant moments when he actually mistook Jennifer for Marta. And that made him feel guilty because Marta was alone back on Thorsfinni's World, the woman who had borne him beautiful children, the woman who had faithfully shared some of the best years of her life with him. Lewis Conorado loved his Marta unstintingly.

  Jennifer had asked him about Marta, and he'd told her honestly that their marriage was, just then, on the rocks. She also asked him why he was returning to Earth, and he'd lied. Jennifer had accepted the fact that he was married, had been for a long time, and she had told him frankly she didn't care why the Corps was calling him back to headquarters.

  "But Lew," she said one day, "I know enough about bureaucracies to know they don't call middle managers all the way across Human Space without a reason. You're in some kind of trouble. You don't have to tell me what it is because I don't care. I just hope you come through it okay."

  How in the hell did I get myself into this mess? he thought. He would probably have killed Palmita that morning if no one had intervened. He'd attacked the man with the same degree of determination and ferocity he would have used had the woman been Marta instead of Jennifer. And that was the problem: he thought he loved Jennifer as much as he loved his wife.

  Jennifer Lenfen had her own thoughts on the subject. All the crew were at their stations, waiting for the captain to give the command to initiate the jump. Her duties were minimal since the computer systems were all functioning perfectly, but she had her station on the bridge just the same. Just my luck, she was thinking as they waited for Captain Tuit to give the command, that the only man I'd die for is married. Jennifer Lenfen already knew Lewis Conorado well enough to realize he'd never give up his marriage on his own. Even if he didn't love her—and she knew he did—he would never be the one to break the bond. The ache she felt for him seemed like a great big hole through the center of her guts, and it was wonderful. She blinked. A tear ran down her cheek. Goddamnit, she thought, I hope the others aren't watching! She smiled inwardly and relaxed because, despite her youth and inexperience, she knew that true love was boundless—and not jealous.

  Just before the Cambria made the transition from Beamspace, Conorado wondered what Marta was doing at that moment.

  The New Oslo police headquarters was a depressingly modern and spartan place. The officers were neatly dressed, efficient, and polite. At that time of the year—deep winter in that hemisphere—they all wore thick black turtleneck sweaters. The men all sported short haircuts, and those who had facial hair kept it neatly trimmed; the few female officers Colonel Ramadan observed as he walked through the corridors to the chief's office bobbed their hair neatly. They all looked dedicated, but to Ramadan there was something ineffably "garrison" about the New Oslo police force. He had to wonder how they'd operate in the field. He was soon to find out.

  "Colonel!" Agdar Vest, the police chief, greeted Ramadan warmly as he entered his office. "So good of you to come to help us out on dis case! I hope Inspector Hamnes briefed you on vat ve know so far about the Conorado woman's kidnapping?"

  Ramadan nodded. Inspector Hamnes, a man of about sixty with a neatly trimmed mustache, was in charge of the operation to rescue Marta Conorado. He had given Ramadan all the information at his disposal on the ride from the aerial port to the headquarters.

  "These two—Bengt Trondelag and Kiruna Rena—are professional assassins, Colonel," Hamnes had told him. "They are very good, and ve have not been able to gather the evidence ve need to tie dem to the murders ve know they have committed—until now, that is. By taking Mrs. Conorado hostage, they have given us the best witness ve'll ever have. But they are ruthless people, and now they are desperate as well, and I am afraid they will keep Mrs. Conorado alive only so long as she can serve them as a hostage. They must kill her, you see. And the worst part of it is, ve don't know where they are in the mountains."

  The New Oslo police did not follow the pair into the mountains because they thought they had a more reliable and less intrusive method for keeping track of them. They sent a surveillance drone on their trail instead, an absolutely reliable and safe tracking method. "Unfortunately," Hamnes had said, "the weather in the mountains deteriorated so quickly we could not continue the surveillance."

  Ramadan thought of the razzle-dazzle technologies sold to the Corps that didn't work in a pinch, but it was slight comfort knowing others had the same problems. "So what will you do, Inspector?" Ramadan had asked, his heart sinking.

  Hamnes shrugged. "When the weather clears a little, ve vill go in after dem. Your Mrs. Conorado is certainly dead if ve don't. The chances are not good if ve do find dem in time. But ve must act because there is the slight chance that way ve can save her."

  Now, Chief Vest asked, "Haf you brought Mrs. Conorado's medical and dental records, Colonel?" Conorado handed over the crystals. "I vill see dese are returned. I'll gif dem now to forensics." He sighed. "I hope, Colonel, ve vill not haf to use dem, but I must warn you, sir, Mrs. Conorado's position is desperate. Already the snow in de mountains is to a depth of three meters, and vinter has only just begun up dere. If dey make good dere escape, ve may never find her."

  "Yeah," Ramadan sighed, "and we don't have the slightest idea where they are."

  "Brother Conrad?"

  Conrad Milch looked up from his read
ing of the Book of Revelation and smiled. "Brother Benediction." He stood, and they embraced warmly.

  "Brother Conrad, I would like to ask you if Brother Revelation and I might have one last tour of the ship's power plant."

  "But—But we're due to dock at Luna in two days. Everyone's preparing to disembark." Milch frowned. "I do not relish our parting, Brother Revelation. You and your brothers have opened my eyes to so much! I wonder if we may stay in touch—"

  Benediction lay his hand softly on Conrad's shoulder. "This may be the last time we can commune directly with the wonderful Power, Brother Conrad. It would make our eventual parting so much sweeter if this one last time you could oblige us." They needed Conrad because the shuttle between the last cargo bay and the power plant would not operate unless a certified crew member logged on with his voice and palm prints.

  Conrad thought. "I go on duty in fifteen minutes. Why, of course, Brother Benediction, I'd be delighted to take you down once more."

  Epher Benediction, the bomb maker, smiled.

  The five "soldiers" of the Army of Zion had studied detailed plans of the Cambria's layout for weeks before they boarded her. They had rehearsed their moves endlessly, until each man knew what he was to do. During the entire voyage, not one had spoken to any of his comrades about the mission. They did not need to. Each man's duty, along with a schematic of the ship, was burned into his memory. Thus nobody on board the ship suspected them of being anything more than a group of eccentric laboring men, because there was no possibility either the ship's crew or passengers might overhear anything. Since their luggage was not searched, the bomb's components lay stashed safely in their staterooms.

  The plan was very simple. Two days before docking at Luna Station, they would seize the ship. Benediction and Revelation would assemble the bomb in the power plant, while Gospel, Lordsday, and Merab secured the crew and passengers and locked them into their compartments. At the same time, the destructive devices planted in the lifecraft and on the navigation console on the bridge would detonate, making sure the ship's Earthward inertia was maintained and sealing everyone on board, to die in the explosion that would be timed to occur when the ship blew up. Lordsday, the systems engineer, would use the ship's computer to transmit the Army of Zion's message to the world, which would watch in horror as the cargo, worth trillions, the crew, passengers, and Army of Zion all went up in one glorious nuclear detonation between Earth and the moon.

  Conrad asked Epher what was in the two cases he and Increase Revelation were carrying, and was satisfied to learn they contained sacraments. "We would like you to join us in our last service aboard this ship," Increase said. "It will be a fitting tribute to the ending of this long voyage."

  "Too bad the others won't join us," Conrad said as he stepped into the shuttle.

  "Oh, they are holding their own service elsewhere," Revelation said.

  "In another section of the ship," Benediction added.

  As they rode the shuttle toward the Cambria's power plant, Conrad rattled on and on about his readings in the Bible. He was particularly struck by the seventh verse of Chapter Twenty-two of Revelation: "Behold, I come quickly."

  "Yes, Brother Conrad, He will come quickly," Benediction intoned somberly from just behind where Milch was sitting in the tiny shuttle car. "Maybe even today."

  "In a blaze of glorious light, I bet!" Conrad enthused.

  "Yes, yes, I am sure," Benediction responded, raising his eyebrows at Revelation. They smiled.

  The shuttle docked at last and its hatches popped open. Conrad stepped out, followed by his two passengers.

  "Conrad, you ass, what the hell is this?" the assistant engineer on duty barked. "Damnit, we have to start the goddamned power-down sequence and you're bringing tourists down here?"

  Epher Benediction sat his case carefully on the deck, drew a hand weapon and shot the man in the forehead. Blood, brains, and bone splattered over his instrument console.

  Conrad gaped. Increase Revelation, standing just behind him, placed the muzzle of his own weapon at the back of the engineer's head and fired. Conrad's gray matter splattered over the opposite bulkhead of the power plant. The two bodies flopped and thudded on the floor for a moment before lying still, tendrils of blood forming into pools on the deck plates.

  "What a mess," Epher Benediction sighed as he shifted to avoid a long rivulet of blood creeping toward where he stood. He began to unpack the bomb.

  Jennifer Lenfen, Lewis Conorado, and James Palmita stood in a loose semicircle around Captain Hank Tuit's command chair.

  "I've looked into what went on down there this morning, Palmita, and you were out of line," Tuit began.

  "Captain, I am a diplomat and I have immunity from—"

  "Not while you're on my ship, sonny."

  "Then when we get to Luna—"

  "You ain't getting' off my ship when we get to Luna, not until I say so! And when and if you do get off this ship, you're going off with your tail on fire, boy." He turned to Conorado. "And you, Captain. Don't you think I know what you and Lenfen have been up to? Your conduct as an officer and a married man has been disgraceful. It's been the talk of the ship, goddamnit! I'da let it go, until you two idiots started beating each other up in front of everyone." The three stood silently in front of him. Jennifer hung her head; Conorado just stared at a point an inch above the captain's head; Palmita glared at the captain with his one good eye. Inwardly, Tuit smiled. Conorado had done a job on that boy! It'd be months before that eye could be replaced.

  "Okay, Jennifer, what should I do to our ‘diplomat’ here?"

  "Sir?"

  "Well, you're the ‘offended’ party, girl! Do you want me to turn him over to the port authority on Luna for—for—oh, aggravated sexual assault or whatever? Come on, come on, speak up! We dock in two days!"

  Jennifer's face turned red. She was sorry the incident had happened, but at the same time she was proud of Conorado for having defended her. "I just want to forget about it all, sir," she stammered.

  "What? What did you say, Lenfen?"

  "He's lost his eye. That's enough, Captain. I won't press any charges."

  "Oh, you won't, huh?" Tuit leaned back in his chair. He picked up the stogie he'd been smoking and puffed on it assiduously, producing a fine cloud of blue smoke. He regarded the three balefully through the cloud. It was clear to them that he was enjoying this. "Well, it's my decision anyway. And I haven't made it yet. I'll let you know after we've docked. In the meantime, you three," he jabbed the glowing cigar end at them, "will, I repeat, will have no contact with each other. Now there's one more thing—"

  "Emergency, emergency! Attention all personnel!" Minerva shrieked. "Fire on board! Fire on board! There are fires in the lifecraft! Repeat; fires in the lifecraft! Sealing all compartments and initiating suppression sequences!"

  Jennifer leaped to her console; Tuit was right behind her, knocking both Conorado and Palmita out of the way.

  Dense, acrid smoke began spiraling up from a spot on the navigator's console. The crew member on duty there leaped backward to avoid the superheated droplets that began to splutter away from the glowing ball affixed to the console. It grew in size as he stared at it.

  Palmita shoved the man aside and grabbed the glowing ball in his hand. He shrieked in agony as the stuff burned through the fingers of his hand, exposing the bones. He shook his hand violently to get rid of the stuff and a big glob dropped onto his chest, where it instantly ate through his shirt. He screamed terribly and beat at the glowing spot. This only caused the substance to spread from his chest to his hands and arms. He fell to the deck, writhing in agony. A crewman dashed over with an extinguisher, but the substance continued to burn its way through Palmita's flesh. He went silent at last, but only after Conorado grabbed the extinguisher and smashed it several times onto Palmita's head. After a few seconds the stuff burned completely through his body and several millimeters into the steel plating of the deck underneath him before dying out.

/>   "I guess—I guess I'll let that boy off after all," Tuit whispered.

  "Navigation's out," the navigator reported. "There was enough of that stuff left to burn through."

  "No function at all?" Tuit asked.

  The navigator checked his instruments. "We have some lateral vernier jets still operating, Captain, but that's all."

  "What the hell is going on?" Tuit whispered. Then: "Minnie! Damage report!"

  "All fires extinguished, Captain. Hull integrity maintained at one hundred percent. Lifecraft propulsion systems destroyed. Captain? Two of the crew in the power plant are no longer operational."

  "What?"

  "They are dead, sir. They were killed by two passengers."

  "Give me video, Minnie!"

  "The video system in the plant has been disabled."

  "Jennifer, send a distress message to all ships and stations—"

  "That is not permitted, Captain," Sabbath Lordsday said from the bridge hatch.

  "Captain!" Minerva shouted. "There are armed intruders on your bridge!"

  Chapter Nineteen

  "I think you did it, Ted."

  Brigadier Sturgeon slowly nodded. "It does appear possible, Jay," he agreed. It was evening and the two of them, Brigadier Sturgeon and Ambassador Spears, along with the chief-of-station, Prentiss Carlisle, were relaxing over drinks in Spears's quarters.

  Spears cocked an eyebrow. He'd heard a hint of doubt in Sturgeon's tone. "It's been a week since you beat them in the swamp, and there have been no more contacts by your Marines, or reports from anywhere on Kingdom. According to Archbishop General Lambsblood, they never went this long without raiding somewhere before." Spears said "they" because he wasn't yet ready to concede that "they" weren't rebels.

  Carlisle kept quiet. He did believe "they" were aliens, but didn't feel like making a point of it with his boss with an outsider present, no matter how well his boss and the outsider seemed to know each other.