Forbidden sanctuary, p.9
Forbidden Sanctuary, page 9
part #2 of Star Lawyers Series
“I wish they made decon showers for life,” J.B. muttered.
“They do,” Tyler said. “It’s called the Sacrament of Penance, remember?”
J.B. frowned darkly. “When was your last confession?”
He thought about his last moments with Father Yajik, but skipped that variation on Church ritual. “We’re talking about you, Bro. Didn’t you learn nothin’ from a Catholic Mom?”
“I learned to speak grammatically correct Neo-Spanish and Terran Standard, a skill set which frequently eludes you.”
“Bull-puckkey. I choose to be ignorant. What’s your excuse?”
Tyler continued to engage his brother in therapeutic repartee long after the Sioux City winked out of normal space into the swirling Cumberland Tunnel.
* * * *
Rosalie and Julieta joined Yumiko in the decon shower. Jazmir, a native Suryadivan and medically cleared for the sacred world, didn’t need to be treated, but the Matthews brothers waited on the command flight deck for their turn at ridding their bodies of pathogens from Adao-2.
Tyler and J.B. watched instruments and gazed out the ports at the passing colors. Tyler’s thoughts tumbled like the wispy stars. J.B. seemed more relaxed after their game of trash talk. Not good, but better.
“Gotta hurt like hell,” Tyler said.
“I’ll survive.”
“How well do you know her?” Tyler said. “It’s been a long time since law school.”
J.B. sat back and closed his eyes. “Ty, it’s just that…I haven’t had many…you know.”
“Adelaide was adjunct faculty when you hooked up at Mizzou, right? I took my basic course in Civil Procedure from Professor LeBlanc, and that was a few years after you graduated. She must be at least forty-five by now,” Tyler said. “Why does she look like an undergraduate?”
“She takes good care of herself, I guess.”
“Think a minute. Didn’t Chief León say we lost fourteen months after the Trade Embassy Mardi Gras?”
“The hot tub!” J.B. turned sharply in his seat. “She must’ve poured sacred elixir from the Suryadivan High Council into the water.”
Tyler nodded. “Now the big question—why did she turn against us? Dad trusts her. She has a powerful position in M-double-I.”
“Adelaide must be a player in the Dark Market for extracted enzymes,” J.B. said. “Everybody wants to live forever. Maybe that’s the ‘better offer’ they made her.”
Tyler tapped up a communications application. “We need to call The Old Man.”
“Two-way commo with Terra will take thirteen hours,” J.B. said.
“Mom had Apexcom installed after my run-in with the Rek Kett,” Tyler said. “If it’s working, we can watch him squirm real-time from halfway across the galaxy.”
He debated whether to ask his father about Yajik’s description of a demilitarized Andromedan civilization. But the only evidence Tyler had was an unsubstantiated legend from an immigrant community tens of thousands of years after they left their home world, somewhere in the Void and not Andromeda itself. A disturbing thought, but not enough evidence to prove anything.
“Let’s do it.” J.B. reached into his kitbag, pulled out a flask of clear liquid—moonshine whiskey from the Ozarks—and took a swig. “He owes us direct answers on a few other matters, too.”
Tyler activated the Apexcom, entered the code for M-double-I Corporate HQ, and waited for a response.
“I wish the bad guys would quit playing musical chairs.” Tyler clicked his fingers—Gimme some—extending an open hand. J.B. took a swig and passed the flask. Tyler swallowed a long gulp. Too fast. The whiskey’s afterburners backfired flame into his lungs. “Damn, that’s good,” he coughed. J.B. laughed, not unkindly.
They took turns sipping firewater and preparing the comm system for a high-power, multiverse link to Terra.
No matter how much he hated it when Mom and Dad dogged his every step, the Apexcom system amazed Tyler. A generation ago they wouldn’t have been able to call home in real time, across twenty-five thousand light years to Kansas City.
With the growing importance of Apex-driven technology, Matthews engineers discovered a way to punch through the space-time continuum and literally talk everywhere in the galaxy instantaneously. Noah Matthews had his scientists working to extend the real-time range across the Void to Andromeda, but so far the technology did not exist.
Yumiko came up to the flight deck and reported the decon showers were available for male crew members. Not that showering with mixed genders was socially unacceptable in the spacefaring age, but Matthews Corp had a longstanding policy of gender separation in activities requiring nudity, to honor personal modesty and respect the religious traditions of mixed human crews.
Frankly, what Tyler wanted more than anything right now was a long, warm, soapy shower with the deliciously immodest Suzie. But that would have to wait until they docked with the Patrick Henry.
A few moments after Yumiko returned to the crew decks, J.B. pronounced the link ready to activate. They reached the Senior Executive Office Manager at Corporate HQ, Nicolette Cloutier. She had the sexiest French accent in the Terran Commonwealth. Unfortunately, she looked like Sister Angela, the frumpy nun who taught Moral Theology at St. Pius X Catholic High School in Kansas City.
Nicolette apologized profusely and reported Tyler Noah Matthews III, was “…not available at this time.” With a mellifluous accent hinting of Paris by night, she promised to keep the Apexcom active and to dispatch a junior executive to find the CEO, tout de suite.
“Why don’t you call his personal link?” Tyler said.
“Oh, no, no. It is not possible. Mister Matthews does not answer the personal communications device.”
Considering she was half a galaxy distant, her voice flowed deliciously clear. Lesser men would have melted, accepting her put-off. Tyler would have none of it. He knew what she looked like, and he remembered Sister Angela forcing him to read Aquinas’ City of God in the original Latin.
“La connerie! He’s probably firing some poor bastard in Mars City. Interrupt him, now.”
She broke into yammering French, like a maître d who’d been stiffed on the check. The line went to classical music. Claude Debussy.
J.B. frowned. “What does la connerie mean?”
“Bullshit. Only French cuss word I know.”
“You are the soul of diplomacy,” J.B. said dryly.
Tyler snorted. “Look what diplomacy got you.”
J.B. folded arms across his waist and rocked himself, Tyler immediately regretted saying it. “I’m sorry. She doesn’t deserve you.”
“No, you’re right, Ty. Look what it got me. I actually thought she…liked me—Jesus! I sound pathetic. Adolescent.”
“No, you don’t. You sound like a normal guy. We’ve all been there.”
Tyler touched his brother’s elbow. J.B. nodded but didn’t look at him. They sat in silence until the ship’s comm system reported incoming Apexcom traffic. Tyler dropped the Sioux City from hyperspace to receive a clearer message.
The ghost of their father appeared above the command console, sharpening as the conversation proceeded. “Good morning, Tyler, J.B.”
“Not morning here,” Tyler said.
“How do you like my avatar? The tech department was eager to test it across—”
“Tell us about the Beta Site,” Tyler said.
Noah Matthews went silent for a long moment. “I shouldn’t have sent you out there without complete information.”
“No shit,” Tyler snapped.
“Don’t talk to me like that. I’m still your father.”
“You sent J.B., Rosalie, and me to the Rim as bait. Your real plan was to link Jump Gate Omega to the Beta Site.”
“I had a problem. It was a work-around.”
“Work-around!” Tyler had to fight to keep his seat instead of taking a swing at the holo-image of his father. “They almost got Julieta, too.”
“We found her, by the way,” J.B. said. “She’s safe.”
Noah exhaled, a long sigh. “Thank God.”
“And that’s it—thank God?” Tyler said. “Divine intervention was your back-up plan? Choices have consequences, you always say. Are you so hot to bridge the galaxies you’ll sacrifice the next generation of the Family to seal the deal?”
“Sacrifice? I sent you to a religious police state. Criminals have very little chance to harm people in the Sacred Protectorate.”
“Let’s talk about that. First you dispatched us to Sedalia, where a pirate brigade murdered the Station Master and hundreds of other innocents. They blasted civilian craft and alien starships docked for repairs, including Parvian and Mek vessels. They shot J.B. in the thigh—shall I continue? On Suryadivan Prime—your ultra-safe police state—they blew up my floater car. Rosalie and I barely escaped with our lives. Next, we get jumped on Adao-2, twice. Oh, and thank you for telling J.B. and me that our kid sister and charming cousin are professional dispatchers. It makes holiday and birthday shopping so much easier.”
“Are you through with your litany?”
“No,” Tyler snapped. “Adelaide LeBlanc is a traitor.”
“That’s not possible.”
“She nearly got us all killed,” J.B. said.
Noah’s eyes widened, and his mouth opened slightly. “Do you have any hard evidence?”
“I gave her a keepsake locket ten years ago,” J.B. said. “She returned it to me recently for good luck. It contained a tracking device, which the pirates followed to our location.”
Tyler raised a hand. “We barely escaped. Again.”
J.B. dangled the crushed golden heart on its chain. With the cover plate broken away, filaments sparkled with residual energy.
“Jesús Cristo,” Noah whispered. “Let me speak to Rosalie.”
“Hell, no,” Tyler said. “You’re not unleashing the Angel of Death on Dr. LeBlanc. That lady stands trial in a Terran court.”
“After we get Esteban out of jail,” J.B. said.
Noah grabbed his head, like a migraine just struck him. “Esteban, too? Your mother will be gunning for my culo.”
“Dad, it may get worse. The Suryadivan fleet is missing from Adaon space during their Sacred Hunt,” Tyler said. “Does Adelaide know the coordinates to the Beta Site?”
“Shit. She does. I needed someone nearby to monitor the work and send whatever additional support the Site Commander required.”
“Better warn the Jump Gates an attack may be coming,” Tyler said.
“Neither site is Apexcom capable. System is too new. And the Beta Site has strict orders to maintain communications silence until fully operational. They’ve gone dark, even to messages from me.” He paused a moment. “I sent another ship—one of my agents, Apexcom capable—to check on Beta’s progress. I should’ve heard by now.”
“Send us the coordinates to the Beta Site by secure Apex,” J.B. said. “We’ll deliver the warning in person.”
“Beta orbits a blue giant four hundred eighty-six light years from the Alpha Site.”
“When do they go online?” Tyler said.
“Gate Alpha becomes operational in a week. The Beta Site, forty-seven hours.”
“At max FTL, we’re about twenty minutes from the Alpha Site,” J.B. calculated. “Day and a half to Beta.”
“Good! Check the progress at Alpha Gate before heading to Beta.”
“Is that an order?” Tyler enjoyed reminding The Old Man that Star Lawyers was an independent subsidiary.
“I thought you were offering. Call it a strong request.”
“We’re due in court four days from now.” Tyler looked at J.B., who nodded. “Okay, Dad. We’ll report any glitches directly to you.”
“Thank you.”
Tyler’s nose twitched. “J.B., would you mind if I spoke with him privately for a few minutes?”
J.B. glared at his brother. “No way. I’m part of this team.”
“This is personal. Please?” He winked.
J.B.’s face lit up with a grin. “Oh, Suz—I mean, sure, sure. I’ll be in the galley.”
Tyler turned to his holographic father. “I lied to my brother. This ain’t personal. It’s dirty business.”
Noah chuckled. “Is there another kind?”
“Take me seriously, please.”
His father looked squarely at Tyler with that riveting glare fathers have employed forever. “What do you want?”
“The truth, Dad. Did you know about the peace covenant among the spacefaring nations of Andromeda?”
“Yes.”
“Jesus Christ! When did you plan to tell me?”
“I didn’t think it was relevant.”
Tyler threw up his arms, like a soldier surrendering. “You didn’t think opening a Jump Gate into a defenseless galaxy was fucking relevant?”
Noah raised a hand. “Imagine doing business where trade vessels don’t need armed escorts.”
“A galaxy of Buddhists and Quakers?” Tyler frowned. “What happens when predators from the Milky Way spill across to Andromeda through Jump Gate Omega?”
Noah shook his head. “Won’t happen. We control access. If pirates want to reach Andromeda, it will cost them a fifty-year trip.”
“What if the bad guys seize your Gate, pour through and pillage?”
“They won’t.”
“Humor me. What if they do? Are you willing to risk the safety of a so many civilizations, just so you can change the corporate name to Matthews Intergalactic?”
“Listen to me, Tyler. The Gate to Andromeda has a disable switch. If a hostile force attempts to enter the event horizon, the Gate Commander will shut down access.”
“How does that help? Invaders will seize the Gate, hotwire the link.”
“They can’t. Rebooting requires a code sequence so complex it takes our fastest A.I. processors two months to re-enter. M-double-I battle groups will be all over their asses long before that. The Alpha Gate commander will admit no armed ships.”
Tyler crossed his arms. “I don’t know, Dad…”
“You and I negotiated. You accepted,” Noah said coolly. “Starship Command School for your cooperation on Jump Gate Omega. Are you reneging on the agreement?”
“No…I’m just not sure anymore.”
“Time to grow up, Son. This is the way the Universe operates. Take the deal.”
Tyler sighed. “I’ll defend the Family Legacy Project. But please promise me you can safeguard the Gate against all hazards.”
“I can, I will.” Noah Matthews paused, as if weighing his words. “I never intended you’d encounter so much grief out there.”
“I know that,” Tyler said. “Quit withholding information that can get us killed.”
“Yes, sir.” The holographic half-image of Noah Matthews half-smiled. He added, “You know I love you.”
“That was never the issue.” Tyler closed the link and swigged more Ozark whiskey from his brother’s flask. Damn, I wish Suzie were here. I’m feeling this moonshine, and I’ve always trusted her on autopilot. He smiled at the memory of her words Mardi Gras night on the dancefloor.
He ached to hold her again, but it was a selfish wish considering what J.B. must be suffering. Adelaide, a traitor. He couldn’t remember the last time his brother had a relationship with a woman.
I should tell J.B. about Andromeda, but he’s carrying too much grief already. It can wait.
He entered a new series of commands. “Computer, set course for the Alpha Site.”
A man’s voice responded. Flat, businesslike, accent-free Missouri Terran. “Course laid in. Eighteen minutes ETA.”
“Go to FTL.” Tyler spoke to the new MLC like it was a food dispenser. It was no Suzie.
Eight
The Sioux City winked out of normal space and entered the swirling Cumberland Tunnel. Tyler decided to run a diagnostic to be certain no spyware had attached to the ship. In a few minutes, J.B. returned. They shared the moonshine flask until Jazmir bounced up the steps with hot coffee and saltines.
“I’m a lousy High Priest but a good bartender,” the young Suryadivan said. “You need to shake off the booze.” He set the tray on a jump seat and returned to the galley.
The brothers sipped coffee and chatted mindlessly all the way to their destination. J.B. was raising another argument in favor of Suzie’s transformation to bioenergetic when the destination alarm sounded. Tyler dumped the leftover coffee in a recycle slot and began final checks. The instrumentation looked good, and just beyond visual range the Sioux City’s sensor package the red marker lights of a Matthews Corporation Jump Gate.
Neither brother had seen a Gate under construction before today, but five support carriers and three combat vessels strategically deployed around a beacon-lit ring left no doubt when they dropped from hyperspace. Matthews Jump Gates usually conformed to the black style of the ancient builders, but some unknown design engineer of a previous generation had convinced the Family to face the hull of their Andromeda portals with silvery titanium.
Two of the combat ships left defensive positions and approached the inbound small craft like pincers closing on a wad of trash. Tyler maintained course and opened all channels for communication.
“Ahoy, Matthews Corporation starcraft—this is the Sioux City. We’re here to check your status on directive from the CEO.”
“Sioux City, this is Captain Liu Tan Heng of the Star Cruiser Tianjin. I am in command of the construction and defensive assets at Jump Gate Alpha. Do I have the honor of speaking to Tyler Matthews IV?”
“Yes, sir.” Tyler recognized the young Chinese officer. Likeable guy. Rose to command rank far ahead of his peers. So many Asians filled the ranks of M-double-I starships and corporate offices that Tyler sometimes thought of his Father as the Missouri Mikado. Not surprising if you knew the demographics of species Homo sapiens. People whose roots go to the Far East and India comprised sixty-seven percent of the human race, so M-double-I was arguably homebased on an Asian planet.
