Plymouth Meets Rock: Terran Catalyst, #2

Chapter 1

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I believe we have only one alternative, said Stationmaster Hansen addressing the five glowing holographic faces arrayed above the semi-circle of consoles manned by their flesh-and-blood aides in the dimly lit Council chamber. We must bow to the inevitable, he said, smiling. We must allow the Terran Emissary her visit to our world.

Stationmaster Hansen, of all the foolhardy... You know full well we can’t allow that! exclaimed Governor Johnson’s aide.

Michaels shook his head, wondering what his boss, Governor Marcus, of the Massachusetts Continent, was making of all this.

Governor Leslie’s assistant, Fletcher, viewed the Stationmaster’s proposal with skepticism, and said, Hansen, we were talking about a means of killing her that would leave us blameless. That ship you let escape Station has placed our operations at risk. Plymouth must remain a restricted world. United Sectorates interference will ruin everything we’ve accomplished.

Glancing down at his console screen, Allen Southerly nodded at Governor Harcourt’s cue to him. Hansen, what exactly do you have in mind?

Ah, Hansen chuckled, that is the beauty of it. Killing her outright, in any subsequent investigations, could have rather unpleasant repercussions. However, by apparently helping her aims, against our advice, of course, would not our grief at her unfortunate accident seem all the more plausible?

Fletcher sighed, frowning at his flashing screen. Such a plan has merit, he announced. Silence filled the chamber before he continued, And it poses the least possible risk to the Council. Governor Leslie seconds the Stationmaster’s proposal, adding that the operation must be covert. This plan must not fail. She accessed our data files, he glared at Hansen, and likely has learned too much already. And, we wouldn’t want to make her suspicious about our sudden magnanimity.

That was greeted by a considered silence and a few wry smiles.

Allen Southerly nodded as his screen flashed the green of affirmation. Governor Harcourt agrees.

Michaels waited mutely only a moment, his screen remaining neutral in color as Stevenson’s aide nodded agreement, then Johnson’s. Michaels then vanished, followed one by one by the other images.

This round of the game was over and Hansen exultantly pounded his fists against his console and laughed aloud, he had won. Yet, as he began to rise a powerful voice spoke directly over the Council linkages to the chamber. The sound of it sent a chill up his spine and halted his motion. We have faith in your abilities, Paul. Do not make us regret our decision. Governor Leslie said nothing more.

Perspiration beading his brow, the Stationmaster realized his life hung in the balance. His hands trembled slightly as he straightened and realized he would have to be very careful. The Terran Emissary’s death must be the perfect accident. At that thought, Hansen smiled, his fears momentarily forgotten, knowing it would be perfect.

#

Kathryn Sera sat in the shuttle’s passenger couch as the craft bore her toward her goal, Plymouth’s largest continent and regional capital downworld. Boston was a crossroads for station freight as well as the major port on the eastern coast of the Massachusetts. It was also one of the oldest cities on the face of the planet.

She smiled, feeling the gentle pull of more than just the shuttle’s antigrav thruster drawing her closer to the world below. Her mission was beginning at last. The Gamma type shuttle was styled after the old colonizer shuttles used at the time the colony had first been established over a thousand years before. It was smooth and streamlined, with a combination of antigrav and chemical thrusters, to help cruise in both atmosphere and space.

Her cargo holds had been adapted, changing the shape of the ship from its ancient hard used prototype. The holds were far larger, capable of hauling a sizable amount of grain and food stuffs offworld to station. Luxury goods, equipment, and often minerals and metals from Plymouth’s nearest planetary neighbor, known as The Rock, made up the bulk of its downworld cargoes. Station was the hub of stellar congress in this long restricted planetary system. Shuttles, such as the one she rode, were the only link to the world permitted.

As the ship arched downward, Kathryn reviewed her send off by Stationmaster Hansen. He had been all too happy to be rid of her. She smiled; his plans for her were transparent. With the escape out-system of the Alpha freighter, the Charlie B., a note of uncertainty had been added to all of the Council’s plans for her. They could not just leave her to rot in a Station prison cell or manufacture a quick accident. No, that would raise questions about what was really happening here –– and she had already proved hard to kill. Hansen’s malicious and crooked mind had come up with a cunning plan to do away with her, which actually made the cries that echoed in her mind exult gleefully.

She almost felt sorry for Hansen. He was playing into the hands of fate –– and the destiny of his world. Hansen and the power craving Council would face a justice they had brought upon themselves. Her eyes sparkled with the promise to a thousand souls, which flashed like the flames that had razed their lives.

That promise of vengeance buoyed the voices that haunted her. Satisfied by her train of thought, they eased their terrible draining call on her mind –– their urgency strong, but no longer memories that brought physical pain.

The steward hung back in the forward section of the passenger module, observing the shuttle’s single passenger. The brown robed figure was listed on his manifest as simply the Terran Emissary, nothing more.

Whenever he could, he tried to unobtrusively catch a glimpse of her face, which lay hidden in the shadow of her cowl. Craning neck attracted her attention. He shivered, noting the flutter of her cowled head in his direction. Embarrassed by being caught, he tried to look nonchalant and rose from his seat to walk down the aisle toward her.

Emissary, I am Adams, the ship’s steward.

She gazed up at the young man, who could be no older than twenty-five standard years. With the effect of the planet’s increasing gravity the antigrav was constantly adjusting and the steward gripped the nearer seats firmly as a precaution, practically perching himself beside her. Should you desire anything at all, I will try my best to accommodate you. The gravity fluxed, stealing his effort to smile pleasantly in his struggle to remain standing.

Would you join me for a moment?

Startled, just having recovered his balance, he found it convenient to take the seat across the aisle from her. He asked, How... may I serve you, Emissary?

Well, first, you could start by calling me Kathryn. He swallowed anxiously. With a wintry smile, she said, Have no fear, I am only interested in your world and would like to know a little about the city I am about to visit.  She deliberately couched her words carefully, knowing he had been coached by his superiors with easy answers for just this contingency.

Adams blinked, then grinned, feeling that that at least would prove a safe subject. I was born in Boston. What would you like to know?

At that, she smiled. Adams detected the faintest glow radiating beneath her cowled hood as her eyes met his and he relaxed. The resulting conversation proved his coaching had been good. Its essence told her nothing specifically about the city, merely his life as a child there. Yet, she listened to all the thoughts he dared not say aloud, all unsuspecting, and those thoughts were quite revealing.

Life was not easy on his world. Adams was very lucky to be working for Station and free from the harsher labors that could be found in the city or on the farm steadings. His brother had raised him after their parents died; the city’s labor pool had taken its terrible toll on them both. Many jobs were available, police and civil posts were best with port workers and longshoremen next on the scale. Station education could pave the way to the high tech jobs that were dreams for most people.

Only through such an education could a youth move up the ranks, and the steward’s brother had risen high. A shuttle pilot and eventually a successful captain, his brother had helped Adams get into a Station-side technical school, where he had earned his position as steward.

Plymouth is a world where education and training are very important, Ma’am. Our world is vital to the Sectorate. We’re the bread basket for a dozen worlds. A high standard of technology is needed to increase our production –– as well as our market. Interstellar credits run worlds, after all. Privately, he knew he owed his brother a great deal for the education that got him away from the silos. Survival had many shades of meaning on Plymouth. Yet, he endeavored to put on his best smile for his passenger, who need not know just how rosy a picture he painted.

Adams could just as easily find himself a pale reflection of his father. The silos had left the man a thin husk, barely recognizable before his death. What kind of life was that? The memory of his last meeting with his brother echoed in his mind. Shuttle steward was an easier life for him –– and this way they, at least, had the chance to see each other.

But the steward suddenly wondered if his parents had actually been happier living in the squalor. He blinked, his thoughts returning to this moment as Kathryn placed her hand reassuringly on his arm. Life can play many tricks, but it can still be quite nice.

The compassion in her voice surprised him. He stared at her and saw her shake herself, withdrawing her arm quickly.

A thought flashed across her mind, ‘It is time.’ She clasped her hands across her lap and was quite still a moment, then asked, Would you do me a favor, Adams?

Miz Sera, please call me Thomas, he heard himself say, completely at ease, yet wondering at the sudden tension in the air. He was wary, while at the same time also sorry that the comfortable talk he had was about to end.

She nodded. Thomas, would you please inform the captain that I have changed my mind about going directly to Boston... I hope that won’t be too much of an inconvenience.

Astonished, Thomas Adams could only shake his head, trying to compare what he had been telling her to her sudden desire to change their destination. Something deep inside him sought to protest, while an even deeper part of him was terribly amused. This request is quite irregular, Emissary, he stated officially, wondering what the captain would make of this. We have an approved flight plan and schedule.

She lowered her cowl, revealing her face and golden hair. Thomas, I realize that, but inform him I wish to land without delay at the Concord shuttleport.

He swallowed hard, appalled at the mere mention of Concord, then he arose from the seat across from her, pretending to be completely at ease. He paused, his mind screaming with questions, wondering what she knew about Concord, how she had even heard of it. Yet he heard himself ask none of those questions, and said instead with a pleasant smile, I hope we can chat again, sometime, Emissary.

With a genuine smile, she replied, I would like that, Thomas.

Nodding, he marched carefully down the aisle toward the cockpit. It would almost be a pleasure to see the look on Captain Merrick’s face when he told him, knowing her request would change nothing.

How wrong he was, Kathryn said, drawing the white crystalline computer disk she wore about her neck from the beneath her robe. Closing her eyes, she concentrated. It suddenly glowed. A moment later, she hid it back beneath her robe.

#

Stationmaster Hansen’s voice lashed out over the communication’s link, You fools!

Merrick shouted, Sir, we’ve lost control of the shuttle. It’s changed course for Concord.

That witch! She’s hacked your systems.

Thomas, get back there and find out how she doing this! the co-pilot ordered, fighting the controls as the shuttle began its descent.

Yessir, he rasped as he ran back through the cockpit hatch, seeing her looking back at him with a smile, cowl raised.

Get your ship back on course, Captain!

We can’t get it off auto-piloting! Merrick cried. We’ve tried everything.

Pull the links if you have to!

The co-pilot glanced at the ripped out board. We have, sir. It’s no use.

After berating who knew how many others as he shouted over the link at his staff, Hansen ordered in exasperation: Fine, take her there! It will not take her long to decide to proceed to Boston. Explain to her what happened there after she’s seen enough. Keep a close eye on her! Station out.

Captain Merrick glanced sharply at his co-pilot. Have Adams notify our passenger that we’re cleared to land at Concord.

The co-pilot shook his head in evident disbelief, hoping the Captain would not send him to escort their charge through the ruins and stench of the damned place.

Thomas paused as the co-pilot called him from the hatch, gestured. He returned briefly to the cockpit, and when he returned Kathryn merely smiled and said, Landing soon, are we?

Uh, yes, Ma’am, he replied, frowning, worried what the sight of the town would do to her.

From his mind, she could see the memories of the telescreen reported scenes of the massacre. Hate for the guerrillas that had perpetrated the horror filled him. Kathryn’s eyes lost focus as what haunted her lent the scenes distinctly different perspective. Screams of terror filled the night as flames leaped high, energy blasts rained down upon the fleeing civilians, agony ripped through her as her flesh remembered the touch of fire. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to force closed the gates of horror.

#

Opening the hatch, sunlight poured into the shuttle. Swallowing hard, he gazed upon the destruction in the shuttleport around him. It had taken them nearly ten minutes before finally settling down into a less damaged pad. From this vantage he was left aghast. You don’t want to go out there.

Raising her cowl, she stood behind him. I’m going, nonetheless. Will you accompany me?

From the cockpit’s entry Captain Merrick gave him a definitive nod. What choice had he? The Stationmaster had given them orders to keep an eye on her, he could only grunt in assent as he activated the emergency ladder, knowing that there would be no ground crews to aid them with an access tube. They soon descended into the ruins of the shuttleport. Merrick watched their progress warily for a moment from the hatch before sealing it closed behind them.

#

Stationmaster, stated the shift supervisor, we have a channel to Shuttle 12B-24.

Paul Hansen clenched his jaw, shunting the data onto his command screen and read, ‘Terran investigating Concord. Ship’s steward, Thomas Adams, escorting as directed.’

Supervisor! he shouted. The relatively young man, compared to the one he had replaced since yesterday, hurried over. Are those orbital eyes focused yet?

The man swallowed, They will be on line within minutes, Sir.

With a smile Hansen nodded, finally things were coming under control. It would not take his men on the surface long to relocate to Concord. Too bad about her terrible accident in the ruins, he would remark to the Council. He knew that too many coincidences might be too obvious. Boston would likely not have been as believable, but Concord was perfect. You needn’t stay there too long, my dear Emissary. His laughter scared the new supervisor and would haunt his dreams that night.

#

The pad’s normal exits were strewn with rubble, forcing them to use the tram tunnel out into the main Control Complex, now a broken three story building with gaping holes and a charred exterior. Not a single warehouse remained standing or any buildings within forty yards of the shuttleport.

Ground vehicles lay overturned or crushed by the force of the attack. In Kathryn’s mind, bodies were strewn about littering the streets. Where are they? she asked, gazing about her.

Adams momentarily shut his eyes, not wanting to confront the extent of what had happened here as he answered, Security collected those they found for identification and burial.

They moved on and soon reached a rubble strewn intersection. Kathryn abruptly turned around. She knew this place. Gregory’s memories flooded her. He had stood here and then.....

Hey! Thomas yelled as the brown robed charge ran down the next street. She was crying out in panic as he raced after her desperate to catch her. Many of the buildings were skeletal forms or had completely caved in, smoked damaged, charred. Rubble and broken remains of merchandise were scattered everywhere, making this mad scramble extremely dangerous should either of them trip and fall.

Council promised to rebuild this now abandoned regional center, but with the harvest season upon them they did not have the manpower. He doubted that anyone would be willing to live here in the shadow of the ruins and the knowledge that the massacre had left this place so barren of life.

Tears streamed down Kathryn’s face as Gregory’s death cry overrode her every other thought. Help me! echoed piteously from her own lips.

The sunlight faded from his senses, the rubble taking on the cast of flame rivaling that night, shadow people fled in terror, as now the late researcher Gregory slept on the dream enhancement couch in his lab on Earth. Reliving his nightmare of an objective dream, where he ghost-walked through this place as soldiers dressed as Rhode Islander guerrillas raided the city, shooting indiscriminately, glorying in the terror they caused. It was quite a game to them, hunting down the helpless people seeking any refuge, any place to hide, when there were none.

Blue threads of energy rained from the black night sky as antigrav battlecars with their powerful cannon blasted the buildings and strafed the hapless people huddling in fear in the streets, who offered such tempting targets. The crash of a falling structure resounded through the city, joining the unholy din. Debris was thrown into the sky, burning bits added to the maelstrom.

Some had armed themselves, but they were few and practically harmless against the skilled killers. A guerrilla fell dead or was injured, caught by surprise by victims driven by their terror to fight back, knowing how hopeless it was.

A shadow of a little girl fled toward her as she suddenly stopped cold. The girl didn’t see her. The soldier chasing her smiled as he raised his rifle and took aim. She stood before the child protectively, knowing what she would do in Gregory’s place. Then Gregory was there beside her and shoved Kathryn aside with a haunted look.

She cried, ‘No! Not again! This is for me to relive –– not you!’

His ghostly from glanced at her, shaking his head, then the soldier fired as Gregory’s body flared, absorbing the discharge. The little girl screamed and stared at the apparition, who raced toward her attacker and knocked him incredulously off his feet...

Kathryn stumbled backward as Thomas Adams reached her, barely able to halt her fall. Gasping, she stared at the ghostly images before her, watched as Gregory impossibly materialized and saved the child. The soldier died as Gregory’s body came in contact with his energy weapon, which exploded.

As a figure of fire, Gregory was hardly recognizable as the man he was or the objective dreamer then dying in the lab, fire and smoke filling the room, circuits shorting out in overload as the dreamer became an elemental force of vengeance.

Soldiers hurrying to their fallen companion found themselves fighting for their lives against the glowing thing of fire who was throwing bolts of energy skyward. A bolt struck a passing battle aircar, sending it crashing to the ground. Energy blasts struck him repeatedly, setting his blazing body to greater and greater glory.

Chaos reigning, Kathryn shied away, clutching at Thomas’ arms as the laboratory took from, superimposed upon the deathly scene. The computer crystalline enhanced couch was melting from the incredible heat, the smoke and the flames seemingly stretching from one reality to the other. Gregory screamed with agony as he burned. Emergency systems failed as alarms shrilled, mingling with the sounds of death and destruction's before Gregory's demon from.

The lab door was flung wide on manual override as his fellow researcher, Nathan Bradley, alerted by the claxon, tried to come to his rescue. Kathryn could see the fire and blistering heat assaulting the young man as just for a moment Gregory realized the extent of what was happening. Nathan shouted in horror as they locked gazes. The overloaded equipment flared with a directed imperative as Gregory screamed: Help me! and died locked within flames upon two worlds.

Kathryn sobbed as Thomas grabbed her as she collapsed to her knees, not understanding what had brought this on. Slowly almost gingerly, he shook her. Sunlight touched her face. Her breathing eased as Gregory’s driving demand for justice and retribution –– as the emotions and nightmarish memories he had imparted to Nathan, who had somehow passed